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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Poetical Inspirations 

IFrflm t\}^ (granite l|tUa 



By 



HOMER DARLING TRASK 






J ) > 



> ' > » 



'" .'. .'. 






HARTFORD, CONN. : 

The Case, Lockwood & Brainard Co., PrIxNters 

1903 






THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 


Two Cof/ies 


f^ecoivew 


OCT T 


1903 


Copyiisht 
CLASS a 


tntty 
XXc. No 


COPY 


"1 -1 ! 
a. 



Copyright, 1903 
By Homer Darling Trask 



• • • •• 



« • t 4 







ifRS. ELLA ROSS. 



TO MY DEAR FRIEND 

of €«!!*, ftanijas* 



WHO HAS BEEN FAITHFUL TO ME THROUGH MY MANY CLOUDS OF 

SORROW AND AFFLICTION, THIS VOLUME OF POEMS 

IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 

BY THE AUTHOR 



|)oiner Darling; Crasili 



0IO«tetttH. 











Page 


My Dearest Friend . . . ' 9 


God is Everywhere . - 






lO 


The Past ' 






12 


My Immortal Friend 






13 


Dreaming at Home . .... 






14 


My Sister Catherine 






15 


Truth 






16 


Humanity 






17 


The Real Man 






18 


Genius 






19 


In the Moonlight Sweetly Dreaming 






20 


Go Work in the Vineyard . 






21 


Only a Bunch of Lilacs 






22 


A Child's Prayer . 






23 


A Question 






24 


The Old Rock House 






25 


Sunset ... 






26 


Unfulfilled . 






27 


Pride 






29 


Playthings .... 






30 








32 


Little Hermine T 






33 


The Old Mansion ... 






34 


The Rustic Queen 






35 


My Faithful Husband .... 








36 


Gone Before .... 








33 


Forgiven, or the Wayward's Return . 








39 


My Restless Storm-tossed Soul . 








41 


At Night 








42 


Experience 








44 


A Request 








45 


The Little Red House 








46 


Mother 








47 


Our Mountain .... 








48 


One Autumn Day 








49 


To Mary 








51 


The Brooklet .... 








52 


Heavenly Flowers 








53 


The Spirit of the Age . 








54 


The Present .... 








55 


The Old and the New 








56 


O Sweet Eternal Rest 








58 


The Message .... 








59 


Only a Cup of Snow . 








60 


The New Year .... 








61 


I am Worn and Weary, Brother 








62 


The Future 








63 


An Angel's Whisper . 








64 


In the Forest .... 








65 


The Children 








66 



6 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

The Doctor's Lassie .... . 67 

This World . . . 68 

In Late Autumn . . 69 

Through the Radiant Bright Eternal .... 70 

When I Am 111 ... . .... 71 

At the Opera .... .... 72 

Hope 73 

The Richards Cottage 74 

A Stroll 75 

He Knoweth Best 76 

An Evening Song 77 

The Old Mill 79 

The Holy Child 81 

One Morning in Spring 82 

The Nigger Lot 83 

Two Robins 84 

A Handkerchief and Carnation 85 

Tomorrow 86 

The Woodchopper 87 

The Old Home . 88 

The Doctor's Sweetheart 90 

My Southern Friend 92 

Spring 93 

By the Fireside 94 

My Mother's Thimble 95 

Poor Thomas 96 

Little Vera 97 

Fate's Decree 98 

To Mildred 100 

Avenged loi 

A Ghost • . . . .102 

The Old Oak Tree 104 

A Dear Friend 106 

Our Martyred President 107 

My Guardian Angel 108 

In the Summer Time 109 

My Western Friend no 

The Old Kate Tyler Place in 

The Sweet Long Ago 113 

To Marguerite . . . . . . . . .115 

Only a Tramp 116 

The King of Day 117 

An Evening Hymn 118 

Bjrgone Days 119 

A Life's Despair 121 

While I Dream 122 

Our Father 124 

The Salvation Army 125 

The Old Chair Shop 126 

The Fire 128 

Forgive 130 

Only a Little Kitten .131 

Two Innocents . . . .... 132 



CONTENTS. J 

Page 

My Mysterious Friend 145 

Easter 146 

The Fading of the Day 147 

The Irish Race 148 

Childhood Days -149 

Midsummer Days .150 

The Ashuelot River 152 

A Dream 154 

Return of the Soul . . . 155 

The Magic Hand 156 

The Month of June . . • 157 

The Comrades 158 

Mother's Love 159 

The Deserted Farm 160 

Our School Days 162 

The Drunkard 164 

My Sisters 167 

The Wayward Girl 168 

When We Are Gathered Home 169 

The Battle 170 

My Friend 172 

Memorial Day 173 

The Remembered One 175 

Midnight Visions 176 

Far Down in the Ocean Deep 178 

Don't Break Your Mother's Heart 179 

Baby's Picture on the Wall . . ■ . . . . 180 

Let Me Kiss You, Mamma Darling 181 

In the Land So Sweet and Fair 182 

Beneath the Two Old Pines 183 

All Alone Upon the Mountain 184 

By the Old Ashuelot River 185 

The Fated Train 186 

My Angel Mother 187 

Beyond the Gates of Gold 188 

I'll Guide Thee Day by Day 189 

You Must Battle for the Flag 190 

When We Meet Our Blessed Lord . . ; . . 191 

The Lonely Whippoorwill 192 

Be Kind to Mother When I'm Gone 193 

That Night in June I94 

By the Old House I Love to Linger 195 

Where the Stream Flows by the Mill .... ig6 

Now My Heart is Sad and Lonely 197' 

The Vesper Hour . . 19S 

Where the Peaceful River Flows 199 

In the Beautiful Month of May • 200 

The Vesper Bells 201 

You'll Be Faithful, Dear, to Me 202 

Far Away in Dear Old Venice ...... 203 

Upon the Golden Stairs 204 

One Winter's Night 205 

Martyred ........ . . 207 



8 



CONTENTS. 



Please 'Qvlj My Flowers 

When I Kneel in Evening Prayer 

The Judgment Morning 

He is Sleeping 'Neath the Billows 

'Twas a Dream Til Long Remember 

My Sweetheart Irene . 

She is Coming to Greet Me Agai 

Life .... 

Crucified 

The Pines . 

The True Poet . 

While Waiting for My Sister 

Our Guardian Angels . 

Only a Little Cup of Snow 

My Sainted Mother 

The Bride . 

Winter .... 

A True Friend . 

Be Not Proud 

My Brother's Boys 

The Missed One . 

The Village Maiden . 

A Lonely Heart . 

Autumn 

The Haunted Mansion 

Foundered . 

An Evening Prayer 

The Fourth . 

Christmas 

The Parting . 

In Mansions Bright Above 

Little Grandma . 

Respect the Aged 

Mysterious . 

Tokens .... 

Thanksgiving 

Our Darling 

Today .... 

My Two Flowers . 

My Little Fairy Fern . 

Our Earthly Paradise . 

An Autumn Flower 

A Summer's Romance 

To the Joyful Wedding Bells 

An Angel's Face . 

Our Noblest Friend 

These Modern Days . 

Success. 

The Rural Goddess . 

Comrades, Have Our Soldiers Won 

My Sister Florence 

Nowadays . 



Page 
208 
209 
210 
211 
212 
213 
214 

215 
216 
217 
218 
219 
220 
221 
222 
223 
224 
225 
226 
227 
228 
229 
230 
231 
232 
233 
235 
336 
237 
238 

239 
240 
241 
242 
244 

245 
246 
248 
249 
250 
252 

255 
256 
259 
260 
261 
262 
263 
264 
265 
266 
267 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS 



How shall I paint your virtues, 

My valued western friend? 
That firm, expressive face of thine 

Proves thee faithful to life's end. 
Thou art pure and spiritual-minded, 

Inspired by One divine; 
Thou art, except my mother, 

The dearest friend of mine. 

Thou hast proven thyself an angel, 

As thou journeyed on life's way ; 
Thou hast often soothed some wearied soul 

Whom fate had led astray, 
I would I were more worthy 

Of such a friend as thou ; 
That I'll see thee at some future day 

Is the hope that cheers me now. 



lO 



FOE TIC A L INSPIRA TJ ONS. 

(Boh t0 iEu?rghiI|?r^. 

." Where is God? " is often asked 

By foolish-minded man. 
Where are your ears, your eyes, your mind. 

You cannot see a plan? 
You cannot step outside your door, 

You cannot raise your eyes, 
But what our God is manifest 

In earth or air or skies. 

In azure skies, so clear and blue, 

In fields of beauteous green, 
God's love and power are manifest 

As far as can be seen. 
In springtime, when the world awakes, 

All robed in splendor bright, 
Our God we ween can well be seen 

In morning's early light. 

In eastern skies when morn doth rise 

With sun rays o'er us cast, 
God's face shines forth all o'er the earth 

While all the day doth last. 
At eventide, when twilight comes, 

And things of nature peep, 
Again God's love is manifest 

Till nature falls asleep. 

When little stars with golden bars 

Peep out, with twinkling eyes, 
What power sublime and love divine 

Bedeck the heavenly skies. 
The peaceful moon, in splendor grand. 

Is ruler of the night ; 
His silver beams pour forth in streams 

A calm and glorious light. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jj 

There's not a thing, on earth or sea, 

Or in the skies above. 
That shows not forth the power of God, 

His wisdom and His love. 
The lovely trees, in gentle breeze. 

Betoken God's own powers ; 
The little birds, with their own words. 

Who sing in morning hours. 

The ocean with its great white waves 

That rock from shore to shore 
Is telling tales in mournful wails 

Of overruling power. 
Just see the flowers in morning hours 

All jeweled with the dew. 
The little bees the honey sees — 

'Tis God the whole day through. 

When thunders roar and rains downpour, 

And lightnings flash the skies, 
We see God's power in every bower, 

As streams and rivers rise. 
The towering hills and little rills 

Were also made by God ; 
His power doth span all o'er the land, 

He made the golden-rod. 

Mysterious caves where mad beasts rave 

And live on helpless prey 
Were made by God, so saith His word. 

He also made the day. 
You have no eyes, you man unwise, 

Nor even any mind ; 
If no God you see, where'er you be. 

Why then you must be blind ! 



12 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

®ljf fust 

Gone has the past, forever, 

The path ne'er again will we tread ; 
Only doth it live in memory, 

Into unknown realms hath it fled. 
Yet it is ever before us, 

The bitter along with the sweet. 
Again would we gladly recall it. 

Though there were thorns that pierced our feet. 

We tell how different we'd travel, 

If the path we could follow again ; 
Alas ! 'twould be the same journey. 

With its pleasure and with its pain. 
It is easy to say what might have been, 

But the future we could not foresee; 
Who knows but the path we followed 

Was only as it was to be? 

We bitterly mourn o'er the bygones. 

And say could they only return. 
Ne'er would we stray on our journey; 

Thus for the past do we yearn. 
Could we have known, on life's morning. 

Far different then all might have been ; 
But our journey was hidden before us, 

The future was not to be seen. 

Though life's road may be rugged and thorny. 

And the journey be far from a dream. 
Yet here we all wish to linger. 

No matter how indifferent we seem. 
If we have erred on our pathway. 

Let us in future take heed ; 
For the past should teach us a lesson. 

And show us the life we should lead. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



13 



Oh sweet, immortal friend of mine, 

Thy golden thoughts oft come to me ; 
They flow like silvery chords of love 

And bid all sorrows hence to flee. 
'Tis power divine that thou dost hold, 

Thy sonl is filled with holy love ; 
And naught can thwart thy power to heal, 

For thy fountain fills from streams above. 

For weary years thou knew'st no bliss ; 

Thy path was strewn with wicked thorns ; 
Thy faith in God brought peace, at last. 

And radiance now thy soul adorns. 
Oh! fair, beloved friend of mine, 

How shall I praise thee for thy care? 
For God and thou art with me now. 

And Christ gives answer to thy prayer. 



H 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



irramtng at l^omr. 

I dreamed of a beautiful city 

Where the tree of life was in bloom ; 
I dreamed I stood near the river 

Where the air was sweet with perfume. 
I saw my dear, blessed Saviour 

Who had died that my soul might be free ; 
I wept with joy as I met Him, 

For I knew He had suffered for me. 

I went from the blessed Redeemer 

Praising God for the gift of His Son ; 
I knew that the joys of Heaven 

For my soul had only begun. 
I saw the dear Mother of Jesus, 

She bid me unto Her come ; — 
And then I awakened, in sorrow. 

To find I was dreaming — at home. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



15 



(The First of May.) 

Just six and thirty years this day, 

A darhng babe was born ; 
The sweet arbutus seemed to say, 

" We welcome thee this morn." 

Her eyes were large, of darkest brown. 

Her hair an auburn hue ; 
" The fairest babe in all the town " — 

The neighbors surely knew. 

The infant years sped fast away. 

There came a winsome girl ; 
The people loved sweet Katie May 

And begged an auburn curl. 

Though time has brought her grief and care, 
Though now not young and gay, 

To me she's just as sweet and fair 
As in the earlier day. 



J 5 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

(Entti?. 

We have our doubts, we have our fears 

And days of unbehef, 
But when the end is drawing near, 

We are Hke the penitent thief. 
In health we boast there is no God, 

And walk with lofty pride ; 
Alas ! alas ! a different tale, 

As we near life's ebbing tide. 

The world in youth may laugh and jeer 

At the man who worships God ; 
He ages fast, his thoughts are changed, 

He sees the upturned sod. 
Awaken, thou who slumbereth, 

Conceit is now your guide ; 
You're aging fast, you must believe. 

Ere the veil is cast aside. 

Within your heart you do believe 

Or, why afraid to die? 
You tremble like an aspen leaf 

When the end is drawing nigh. 
The infidel, on his death-bed. 

Doth fear and moan and rave ; 
He prays to God for mercy. 

He sees the open grave. 

Have the courage of your convictions 

And be a man, today; 
Do not fear the scoffing world 

Or wait till you're old and gray. 
God awaits your coming. 

He's your everlasting friend ; 
Though now you do without Him, 

You'll want Him in the end. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



17 



l^mttattitg- 

Humanity you'll find is very frail 

And cannot help but err ; 
We therefore should be charitable, 

And be careful whom we slur. 
Just search your own conceited heart, 

Before you judgment pass, 
And perhaps therein you'll see yourself 

As in a looking-glass. 

There's many a noble-hearted man 

Whom fate has locked in jail; 
There's many an honest merchant 

Whom fate has forced to fail. 
Many and many a maiden, 

Now leading a life of shame. 
That if we only knew the cause 

We'd find they were not to blame. 

There's many a tramp upon the road 

Whom humanity scorn and hate. 
When the only reason that makes them thus 

Is the irony of fate. 
So be lenient in your judgment, 

For, perhaps, on some near day. 
Fate may thus force you my friends. 

To also go astray. 



I8 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

JL^t il^al ilait. 

Who is the pride of the nation, 

With a hand outstretched to the poor? 
Who is the man that feeds the tramp, 

When he knocks at the kitchen door? 
Is it the multi-milHonaire, 

Or he who is shabbily dressed. 
That is always ready to lend a hand 

When you are needy and distressed? 

Who was the man that bore the flag. 

The bravest of the brave? 
Who risks his life to save the child 

From the cold and watery grave? 
Is it the man who is tailor-made. 

Or he whose clothes are soiled? 
'Tis always the man whose hands are rough. 

Because he has honestly toiled. 

Who were our greatest statesmen? 

Were they those with parents of wealth? 
Or were they the lads who had naught in store 

But just their ambition and health? 
Who were our bravest generals 

That ranked highest in army file? 
They were the lads who had not a cent, 

When they came from the Emerald Isle. 

Who are the bravest firemen. 

When the buildings are all aflame. 
That plunge where the flames are raging so fast 

That the inmates seem insane? 
Oh ! give me the man whose clothes are old, 

And whose hands are rough and soiled ; 
He is the man of real worth. 

The man who has honestly toiled. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jg 



(A fact.) 

Genius is strangely treated 

And slowly recognized ; 
After all it is not mysterious, 

'Tis because of the prejudiced mind. 
For as soon as Madame Fortune 

Acknowledges you've a brain, 
You can hear your praises sounded 

Like the falling-down of rain. 

Personality should make no difference, 

Just merit should be crowned ; 
If men's deeds are meritorious 

Why not now his praises sound? 
But prejudice rules men's senses, 

Independence is cast aside ; 
Influence is recognition. 

And wealth the slave's guide. 



20 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



3(tt tlj0 i^Donltglft imifftlg irfamtng. 

In a rose-vine-covered cottage, 

Where the birds in springtime sang, 
Lived a blue-eyed Httle lassie 

With a voice that sweetly rang. 
I won her heart one night in summer. 

While the silvery moon was beaming, 
And we lingered many hours 

In the moonlight, sweetly dreaming. 

We had named our wedding morning. 

When we ne'er again would part ; 
But the angels came to claim her. 

And they left me sad at heart. 
Now I linger by the cottage, 

When the silvery moon is beaming ; 
And my soul recalls the hours 

When we stood there, sweetly dreaming. 

She has flown to lands immortal, 

Flown to lands of endless day ; 
She's an angel now in heaven. 

My little winsome sweetheart, May. 
Soon beyond this land of sorrow, 

I will meet my darling there ; 
In my dreaming I can see her 

In the heavenly lands so fair. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

do Mnrk in tl|? Hinryarli. 

Turn not thou from the sinner, 

Oh ! man of Christian faith ; 
Unto him preach God's salvation, 

Is your duty, the Scripture saith. 
Let no weak brother stimible, 

And do not play the churl ; 
Lift the drunkard from the gutter, 

And save the wayward girl. 

The poor man is your neighbor, 

Let the stranger stop and rest ; 
Give drink unto the thirsty, 

And thy soul shall be blessed. 
Let not the weary pilgrim 

Be turned out in the cold ; 
Feed the poor and clothe the naked. 

Help the perishing and the old. 

Good morals count for nothing. 

If you've a selfish heart ; 
You're a shepherd on the mountain. 

Let the sheep not drift apart. 
You're a reaper of life's harvest, 

God's fields are ripening fast ; 
Awake, my sleeping brother. 

Ere the harvest days are past. 

The world is God's vineyard. 

You are sowing, day by day ; 
Sow wheat where'er you journey. 

And throw the tares away. 
You'll reap whate'er you sow. 

So, beware of Satan's weeds ; 
Be a zealous Christian worker. 

And Christ will reward your deeds. 



21 



22 



POE TIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 

(ittlg a IBunrli nf ICtlara. 

{Written for E. R.) 

Only a bunch of lilacs, 

Yet a treasure dear to me, 
For they were given by a friend. 

In true sincerity. 
Only a bunch of lilacs. 

How quick to fade and die ; 
They came to me last springtime, 

And brought a happy sigh. 

Only a bunch of lilacs. 

Jeweled with heavenly dews. 
Perfumed by the Maker 

With a fragrance sweet, profuse. 
Only a bunch of lilacs, 

How artistically arrayed. 
Painted by Dame Nature 

With their tender, lilac shade. 

Only a bunch of lilacs, 

That blossomed by the way ; 
Plucked from ofif the bushes, 

One dreaming springtime day. 
Only a bunch of lilacs, 

A gift that may seem small. 
But the gift without the giver 

Is not a gift at all. 

Only a bunch of lilacs, 

I've laid them now aside ; 
I'll keep this treasure ever. 

They shall e'er with me abide. 
For the friend that gave them to me, 

Had a kind and loving heart ; 
They were given in sincerity, 

And their memory ne'er can part. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. ^, 

" Now I lay me down to sleep," 

I hear a small voice say, 
" I pray the Lord my soul to keep, 

As I kneel here now to pray. 
May angels guard me through the night, 

And may I ne'er do wrong ; 
Oh ! teach me always to do right. 

For I am now so young. 

" Oh ! may I always be so good. 

That Jesus may not grieve ; 
Oh ! let me live now as I should. 

That Christ will me receive. 
I am but a little child, 

Oh ! guide me by Thy hand ; 
And lead me safe past sin and strife. 

Up to Thine own dear land. 

" I love my Jesus, yes, I do. 

And I know He loves me so 
That He will guide me safely through 

And help me as I grow. 
I want to help my mother, 

And little sister, dear; 
I want to help my brother, 

While they are ever near. 

" I'll never take to drinking. 

Nor stay out late at night; 
I always will keep thinking, 

Of Jesus and the right. 
Oh! bless me now, dear Saviour, 

For I must go to sleep ; 
Oh ! keep me from bad behaviour, 

So mamma dear won't weep." 



24 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Oh! tell me, little Margaret, 

At some future time. 
Do you think that Cupid 

Will make thee, darling-, mine? 
Do I see the lovelight 

In those hazel eyes ? 
Am I only dreaming? 

Do I all surmise? 

Arc the angels whispering, 

From their home above, 
To my little Margaret 

Sweetest words of love? 
Do they to thee, daily, 

Take a message to thine heart? 
Art thou sad and lonely 

When we are far apart? 

When the evening twilight 

Gathers in thy room, 
Dost thou sit and dream of me, 

Where the shadows gloom? 
Doth a lonely feeling 

Hover o'er thine heart? 
Doth the little Cupid 

My love to thee impart? 

Oh! tell me, little Margaret, 

What I wish to know ; 
Is Cupid only fooling me 

With his little bow? 
I will gladly wait for thee. 

With a patient heart. 
For the time that's coming 

When we no more will part. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 25 



In the north of our city 

Stands a queer little house, 
Where once dwelt a man 

With his happy old spouse ; 
Though aged and blind, 

Yet happy was he. 
They used to ask alms. 

For naught could he see. 

This dear, aged couple 

Years ago passed away ; 
The old house now looks lonely 

And is falling to decay ; 
Yet in fancy we see them, 

Seated outside the door. 
But alas, 'tis a vision. 

For we see them no more. 



26 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Painted in glorious colors 

Are the skies, in the far off west ; 
Slowly the " glory of day " 

Sinks 'neath the hills to rest. 
Long are the twilight shadows, 

The horizon a sea of gold ; 
Silence is over the earthland, 

Night now soon will unfold. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

A longing dwells within my breast, 

That has lingered there for years : 
A longing words cannot express, 

With mingled hopes and tears. 
I yearn to rise from my small sphere 

And to help my fellow man ; 
But fate has kept me lingering here : 

My life is under ban. 

In fancy, I have wealth and fame, 

And dwell in a mansion grand ; 
The winds and waves ring loud my name 

O'er the sea and o'er the land. 
And then I dream that I'm old and lame 

And dwell in poverty; 
The world has forgot my very name, 

And all my misery. 

And then the vail is cast aside; 

I see the mansions fair, 
Where soon my soul will e'er abide. 

And a crown of glory wear. 
At .times I see my fathers, all, 

Whom centuries since have died ; 
Their spirits often on me call, 

And linger by my side. 

By day and night my soul doth roam 

To every star and sphere ; 
Or else I'm sailing o'er the tide — 

I ne'er am living here. 
But soon my soul will be at rest. 

This restlessness will cease ; 
And God will soothe my aching breast, 

When I sail o'er tideless seas. 



27 



23 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Oh yes, we'll sing of Easter, 

And praise the Lord above, 
For His goodness and His mercy, 

For His wisdom and His love. 
We thank Thee, blessed Saviour, 

For this glad Easter morn : 
We thank thee for the Saviour, 

Who was for sinners born. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 2Q 

The drunkard is an object of pity, 

And the maiden who has fallen to shame; 
The man who is locked up in prison 

For the crime may not be to blame. 
Perhaps they all are sinners, 

Deserving the chastising rod. 
But pride, which scorns and ignores them, 

Sins as much in the eyes of our God. 

Pride is the curse of the nation, 

Ignoring the old and the blind, 
Forsaking the weak and the fallen. 

Rejecting all but its kind ; 
Keeping the poor from the churches ; 

Speaking not to those poorly clad : 
Pride has no use for the lowly, 

Nor those who are downcast and sad. 

Pride is the soul narrow minded. 

Pride is conceited and vain. 
Which seeks only wealth and the lofty, 

Scheming only for its own gain. 
Pride and conceit are twin brothers. 

They walk side by side, hand in hand. 
They keep down the weak and the fallen, 

And both are a curse to our land. 

Pride keeps the poor man in misery ; 

Pride makes the maiden dress fine. 
Making her look like a picture 

That fades in a very short time. 
Pride is the ruin of nations. 

And o'er this wide world doth roam. 
Pride has cavised many a heartache. 

And wrecked many a bright, happy home. 



30 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

There's an old-fashioned chest 

In the attic above, 
That brings back the days 

Of my sweet baby love. 
There are his playthings 

And Mother Goose rhymes, 
Just as he left them 

In sweet baby times. 

His dear little books 

Nevermore will he read ; 
His dear little frocks 

Nevermore will he need ; 
This old rocking-horse 

He'll ride nevermore ; 
Our darling's an angel 

On the bright golden shore. 

His dear little bell 

No more will he ring; 
In sweet baby language 

No more will he sing. 
He'll ne'er shake, again, 

His little tin rattle; 
We'll ne'er hear again 

His innocent prattle. 

Nevermore will he climb 

In his little high-chair, 
Nor take his wee comb, 

To comb out his hair. 
He'll ne'er roll his ball 

Across on the floor ; 
Our darling, our angel, 

Has gone on before. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

His playthings we treasure 

More precious than gold. 
I long for to see him, 

His face to behold. 
I know he is happy, 

My sweet baby boy. 
My sweet little angel, 

My pride and my joy. 

Oft in my dreaming, 

I hear baby's chatter; 
Oft in my fancy, 

I hear his feet patter. 
Alas! 'tis a fancy 

Which saddens my heart ; 
But in heaven I'll soon meet him, 

Nevermore for to part. 



31 



32 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Tempted, she fell by the wayside, 

When naught but an innocent girl ; 
Misled by the false lights of pleasure, 

She plunged into life's giddy whirl. 
Cast out by friends and by parents, 

Alone she must journey along. 
Scorned by the world and its people. 

Jeered by the gay thoughtless throng. 

Happy was she in her childhood, 

Surroundings which made life a dream. 
Alas ! came a wolf in sheep's clothing, 

Soon she drifted down pleasure's vile stream. 
On, on through the great, crowded city, 

Through this wicked world she must roam, 
Waiting till God, in His mercy. 

Shall call His forsaken ones home. 



r'OETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



33 



One peaceful autumn morning, 

When all was still and calm, 
An angel from heaven descended, 

With an infant on his arm. 
They called her little Hermine, 

Ere they brought her down from heaven; 
She was the sweetest of all little girlies 

That to parents was ever given. 

A beautiful little mortal, 

A sweet little earthly flower; 
Little soul like spotless snow, 

That falls in winter hour. 
Beautiful eyes as black as midnight, 

Auburn tresses crown her head; 
Dimpled cheeks, like summer roses, 

Angels now watched o'er her bed. 

Little Hermine, how we love her! 

Just a wee little bit of a girl, 
Smiling so sweetly up at you 

Showing little teeth like pearl. 
Trying to tell you a story. 

In a language we don't understand. 
Sweetest of all little girlies 

That dwell anywhere on this land. 



34 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Like a grim, old, silent spectre 

It towers o'er yonder hills. 
The old, gray, moss-covered mansion, 

With its old-fashioned gables and sills. 
There it stands overlooking the city. 

Recalling days of the bright, happy past, 
Where a lover once wooed a young lassie, 

And hours were dreamily passed. 

'Way back in the days of our forefathers. 

This mansion was built for an earl ; 
There he dwelt for years with his millions, 

And life was one gay, happy whirl. 
All through the halls and corridors 

Happy hearts and voices were ringing ; 
Balls and receptions in winter, — 

In fancy we now hear the singing. 

Alas ! came an unwelcome visitor. 

His name was grim, silent Death. 
He tapped at the door of this mansion 

And he smote with his icy breath. 
So now the old mansion is silent, 

But, at times, can be seemingly heard 
The music and voices through hallways, 

Like the voice of some sweet, singing bird. 



POETIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 

QII|? lusttr (fu^rn. 

Whither goest thou, my little maid, 

With thy little feet so bare? 
Art thou a fairy from the fields, 

With thy rosy cheeks so fair? 
Prithee, may I go with thee 

To catch the water clear? 
We'll fill the pitcher to the brim, — 

Ah ! let us linger there. 

The Venus that the gods did love 

Could not compare with thee. 
Thou art a fairy from above, — 

Would thou were meant for me! 
No ancient queen or city belle, 

Enrolled on history's page, 
Was e'er as fair as thee, my child, 

Thou wouldst charm a hoary sage. 

The dusky queen of Egyptian birth 

Who set the world aflame. 
The gypsy girl of beauty rare — 

Thou wouldst their beauty shame. 
The English girl so lily white. 

Who hath charmed society. 
Hath not the power to fascinate. 

As thy innocence and piety. 

The artist's brush hath never made 

A face so fair and sweet. 
Nor sculptor's chisel ever cut 

Such perfect-moulded feet; 
No tongue or pen can e'er describe 

Thy beauty, fair and brave; 
I would thou wert my fairy queen 

And I thy faithful slave. 



35 



36 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

One dreamy day in mid-summer, 

With my lover by my side, 
I was led to the old church altar, 

And became a happy bride. 
When everything was over 

The heavens on us smiled ; 
I loved my handsome husband 

And was happy as a child. 

We built a charming cottage, 

An ideal lover's home. 
We lived only for each other 

And did not care to roam. 
He was loving and devoted, 

And I a faithful wife; 
Our home was like a heaven. 

Without a thing to mar our life. 

After a few short seasons, 

Once more the heavens smiled, 
God had not forgot us. 

He blessed us with a child. 
A fair-haired little angel. 

Whom we christened Lucy May, 
A darling little rosebud, — 

How she did smile and play ! 

But one did not suffice us, 

So we prayed to God again. 
This time the angels brought us 

A babe called Julia Ann. 
Our home was now a paradise. 

With two sweet baby girls — 
Two angels sent from heaven — 

With little golden curls. 



POE TIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 

My husband toiled in gladness, 

To maintain the little dears. 
He always had a kiss for them, 

And wiped away their tears. 
He was meek and tender-hearted, 

A lover all his life. 
With me he was ever patient, 

I was his sweetheart, not his wife. 

For some six years and over, 

Our lives were one sweet dream. 
Our little bark, that we called love, 

Sailed smoothly on life's stream. 
Alas ! there spread a pallor 

O'er my loving husband's cheek ; 
We saw that he was failing, 

His form grew thin and weak. 

There came a change, one autumn day, 

Which made us weep and mourn; 
Grim Death called at our cottage 

And bore his spirit home. 
We laid him in the churchyard. 

Away from care and pain ; 
But sometime, beyond this dreary earth. 

We both will meet again. 



37 



38 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



don? I^rfnr?. 

The angels called at onr cottage, 

At the break of one June day, 
And they bore one, dear to our homestead, 

To that beautiful land, far away. 
She was a kind, loving mother, 

A faithful and affectionate wife ; 
Her spirit now dwells with the angels. 

Away from all worry and strife. 

We miss her sweet, pleasant features, 

We miss her sweet, gentle voice ; 
But we know she is happy in heaven. 

And with angels we'll forever rejoice. 
Her dear hands never were idle. 

Though she suffered with illness and pain ; 
And we know, when life's journey is over, 

In heaven we will meet her again. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. ^g 

Jfforgtfa^tt. or, tl|f Ma^tuarli ISrtunu 

The cold wild winds are blowing 

And the rain is pouring down, 
While a broken-hearted lassie 

Is nearing her native town. 
Some years ago, at evening, 

She left her mother dear ; 
She longed for life in earnest, 

For now it seemed sad and drear. 

She wandered to the city, 

This maiden, young and fair ; 
She was only a country lassie. 

And was tempted by each snare. 
A polished youth he met her, 

And she was led astray ; 
He promised they should marry. 

If she would only stay. 

His words were words impressive ; 

This maiden she was young; 
He tempted her with silver. 

And his devilish, flattering tongue. 
He robbed her of her virtue. 

And she was left to roam ; 
So now she's broken-hearted. 

As she nears her dear old home. 

The lights are burning brightly, 

Near the ivy-covered door ; 
" Oh God ! " she cries, " forgive me. 

And I will stray no more." 
She Hfts the latch-key gently, 

Crying " Mother dear, I live ! 
I've been a wayward lassie, 

But I know that you'll forgive." 



40 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

" Is it you, my darling daughter ? 

God knows I love you still ! 
I've prayed for you, my darling, 

And have trusted in God's will. 
Come and sit beside your mother 

And stray from me no more ! 
God knows how I have missed you ! 

We'll be happy as of yore ! " 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



41 



iHg B^atksa Btarm-tuBBth Bant 

Restless, storm-tossed, this soul of mine. 

Wretched, unhappy, and sad, 
I knew not where it would anchor. 

For the waves were raging and mad ; 
I would it might sink 'neath the billows. 

For no moorage came ever in view, 
And the storms that raged o'er my ocean 

No vessel could ever sail through. 

'Twas thus while fated my vessel, 

An immortal appeared on the scene. 
She commanded the winds to be silent. 

And the ocean calm and serene. 
The storms were afeared of her presence. 

For with God she held mighty power ; 
I am now secure from all danger, 

And am storm-tossed and restless no more. 



42 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

At ^i^\}t 

Now the sun has sunk in splendor, 

'Neath the mountains and the hills. 
Birds of night are flying skyward, 

And we hear their evening thrills. 
Softest shadows of the gloaming 

Are stealing gently o'er the land ; 
Brightest hopes of day have vanished. 

Night now soon will spread his hand. 

Wandering out in evening starlight 

Are maidens, dressed in gay array. 
Trying hard to catch the masher, 

Strolling out upon the way. 
Seated 'neath the pleasant moonlight, 

Where the world disturbs them not, 
Is the lover and his sweetheart, 

Planning out life's future lot. 

On the bridge there stands a stranger, 

Caring not who passes by, 
Gazing down into the river — 

" Life's a curse ! " comes out the cry. 
Plunges now into its waters. 

Not a soul on earth is near, 
Tired is he of fate's dark shadows. 

Life to him was black and drear. 

Mother dear is rocking baby. 

Soon his eyes will close to sleep ; 
Happy is this little darling. 

In his slumbers calm and deep. 
Aged grandpa sits a-smoking. 

Peaceful seems the evening hearth ; 
Visions float out from its embers. 

Silence now steals o'er the earth. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Night is gently, surely speeding, 

Tired hearts must go to rest ; 
God above, ah ! please to shield them, 

Give their lives the very best. 
Let our dreams be dreams of heaven, 

Keep us e'er from doing wrong; 
When we leave this earth forever, 

Gather us with Thy 'blest throng. 



43 



44 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I was longing for a journey, 

But I knew not where to go; 
There were things in Hfe of interest 

I thought that I must know. 
So I embarked upon life's ocean, 

Saying destiny should be my guide ; 
My bark seemed floating smoothly 

As I started on life's tide. 

The ocean first seemed smooth as glass, 

And I saw prosperity ; 
"Ah me! this is a dream," I said, 

" Without adversity." 
Alas ! I saw the winds arise — 

"A storm ! " I cried at last, 
" 'Tis my first shower of experience 

And will soon be overpast." 

The winds were stilled, the storm passed o'er, 

My life seemed sweet awhile ; 
My bark once more went smoothly, 

I smiled a hopeful smile. 
I struggled on, my spirits rose. 

Destiny seemed now a friend ; 
Alas ! I could not see beyond, 

Or how my dream would end. 

Once more I launched my hopeful bark. 

But misfortune then did guide. 
It rocked, it tossed, would not be stilled, 

I feared life's raging tide. 
I knew that fate would sink me 

If I lingered on the foam; 
So I turned my bark around once more, 

And was glad when it reached home. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



45 



O unseen powers, awaken my soul, 

And send it adrift through space ; 
Let it take flight to the heavenly lands, 

And visit the immortal race. 
For I would learn of the glories there, 

As inscribed in thine holy word ; 
And there I could listen to the angel bands 

As in dreams I've often heard. 

Let the saints of glory escort me around 

All over the streets of gold ; 
Oh ! let them show me the river of life, 

And the blessings of heaven unfold. 
Let my dear friends, so long from me gone, 

Take me to the great white throne, 
And there let me kneel at the dear Saviour's feet 

And all of my sorrows make known. 

When thou hast revealed all the glories of heaven 

Return again with my soul. 
And fill me with power and glory divine. 

That I may the glad tidings unroll. 
May the heavenly angels halo my path, 

Let me teach of thine infinite love, 
And when thou art through with me here on this earth 

Restore me to mansions above. 



46 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Wilt mmW Uph i^anst. 

There's a little red house 

Standing back of our hill, 
And though the years past 

There are visions there still ; 
'Twas built for our sister, 

But a few years ago, 
Now her spirit is dwelling 

In heaven I know. 

A dear, aged couple 

Once lived in this place, 
But now they are through 

With life's dreary race. 
There have many more families 

Lived there since then ; — 
Some numbered two, 

Some numbered ten. 

This little red house, 

Though small in its size. 
Could tell you some stories 

That would open your eyes. 
This dear little house, 

Oh ! long may it stand ; 
May it ever be shielded 

By the o'erruling Hand. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I'm dreaming now of mother ; 

She has left us all alone, 
She passed away in silence, 

And to better lands hath flown. 
How sad the dreary hours seem, 

How sad my soul today. 
For God above, though kind to us, 

Hath taken her away. 

You know not how you'll miss her 

'Till her voice you hear no more ; 
You'll know not what her love was 

Until she's gone before. 
Oh, do not ever slight her ; 

Oh, shield her with your hand ; 
'Twill sweeten the gloomy hours 

When she's gone to the better land. 

You have no friend like mother. 

No one with her can compare ; 
She's the dearest earthly mortal. 

More precious than jewels rare. 
I warn you now, dear children, 

Whoever you may be. 
Do all you can for mother. 

For she's all in all to thee. 

Your mother dear is aging, 

And her form is bending o'er ; 
Her soul will soon pass calmly 

To that happy, peaceful shore. 
My youth, my youth, whoe'er thou art, 

This message now I bring: 
To always obey your mother 

While here on earth you cling. 



47 



48 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



([Pur moimtam. 

Far above the level of the sea, 

'Neath the pleasant azure skies, 
Towers Monadnock Mountain grand, 

Looking down with stern gray eyes ; 
Covered with all nature's trees, 

And with granite rocks all size ; 
Gently blows the summer breeze. 

At the glorious morning's rise. 

From the top of this old mount. 

As you gaze with glass in hands. 
You can see for miles away 

Mighty seas and crowded lands. 
All of Dublin you can see 

With its mansions large and grand ; 
Jaffrey too is right in sight. 

With its splendid tillage land. 

Many crowds from far and near, 

When the summer time has come, 
Go and spend the days so clear, 

'Till the twilight calls them home. 
Through the ages, there it stands ; 

Time nor storm can change its face ; 
Signs of God's almighty power 

From the summit to the base. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. ^g 

Wn^ Autumn iag. 

'Twas only a few short years ago 

That my friend George and I 
Took a trip to a village not far from here, 

And soon we two lassies did spy. 
These dear little girls were fair to behold 

And as sweet as a newblown rose ; 
So, being an artist at flirting, my friends, 

I — flirted, as you may suppose. 

The day was an ideal autumn one. 

And, as we each had brought a gun, 
We chatted a while with these lassies fair, 

And then went to hunt just for fun. 
But we really had no intentions to hunt, — 

We were too much impressed with each lass ; 
And soon we went back to their home for a chat — 

Oh, what delightful hours we did pass ! 

George had been going with Lizzie a while 

And on her I think he was smitten ; 
So he devoted his full attention that way 

For fear she would give him the mitten. 
But Amy was chipper as birds in spring 

And a sweet little innocent lass ; 
So it didn't take long for the hours to speed, 

But I wished they never would pass. 

The shadows of evening soon spread o'er the land. 

And we knew that we from them must part ; 
So George he harnessed his old sorrel horse, 

But we seemed in no hurry to start. 
So we stood in the twilight and sang for a while. 

With the lights in the house all aglow ; 
But at last we gave them a loving embrace. 

Then homeward we started to go. 

4 



-_ POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Our journey that evening was pleasant to us, 

For the girls had made an impression ; 
They both were as guileless as two little lambs, 

And their innocence taught me a lesson. 
I shall never forget that bright autumn day, 

Nor the lassies that we did meet ; 
The vision, it never will fade from my mind. 

And the memories will ever be sweet. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. c j 



®0 MiXt^. 

In a small and peaceful village 

Dwells a winsome little lass, 
Loved by everyone that knows her, 

Admired by those that see her pass. 
Eyes as dark as midnight hours, 

Lips of richest cherry red, 
Cheeks as pink as blushing roses. 

Raven tresses crown her head. 

Form as faultless as that Venus 

That the gods of old did love ; 
Soul as pure as crystal waters. 

Nature gentle as the dove. 
He who wins this little fairy 

Gets the fairest of all flowers ; 
May no thorns or clouds of sorrow 

Enter in her mortal hours. 



52 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Babbling through the valley 

Runs the little brook, 
Whispering sweetest music 

At every wind and crook. 
Beside are white-faced daisies, 

Nodding in the breeze ; 
Softest winds are blowing 

Through the lovely trees. 

Sparkling are the waters, 

Mossy are the stones. 
Sweet are little wild flowers. 

Peeping from their homes ; 
Happy little froggies — 

See them swim and dive. 
Little children watch them, 

Glad they are alive. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. t^ 

There are beautiful flowers in this world of ours, 

Flowers that are lovely and fine ; 
But they are not to compare, be they ever so fair, 

With those that bloom in the house divine. 
By the river of life they blossom and blow 

And by angel hands were sown ; 
And time cannot wither, nor time dissever, 

The flowers by the angels grown. 

The river of life doth spray these flowers, 

That they neither fail nor fade ; 
And they laugh out under their gardener's hand 

With a joy that is unfraid. 
All over the heavenly lands so fair 

These beautiful flowers grow ; 
Their fragrance ne'er dies nor their leaves ne'er fade. 

For they ever will blossom and blow. 

When we are worn with daily toils 

And recline for a sweet repose, 
An angel band doth hover o'er 

And their fragrance on us bestows. 
And though unfelt by mortal hand, 

And though not seem by us now. 
Yet 'tis these that sweeten our gloomy hours 

And give peace to our tired brow. 

There is a Hand that cares for these flowers — 

'Tis the Hand of the Great Divine ; 
And He doth water them, day by day. 

Some day they'll be yours and mine. 
Sometime we all will bloom in heaven, 

And be crowned with a garland of flowers. 
No thorns will pierce our poor aching hearts 

Nor enter this new home of ours. 



54 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

(Fife spirit of t\\t Agr. 

It is a sad admission, 

But 'tis true, it seems to me, 
That the world is sadly wanting- 

In Christian charity. 
If fortune has been harsh to you 

And you are poor, alone, 
Just ask for bread and you will get. 

Instead of loaf, a stone. 

When time and care have bent you o'er 

And your locks are thin and gray, 
The love your children give you, — 

You're " an old thing in the way." 
You must sit back in the corner 

And never say a word. 
For you're old and only a burden. 

Not expected to be heard. 

If fate has been against you 

And you're thrown upon the world. 
You're taken for a vagrant. 

And to the poorhouse hurled. 
Should you stray into a city church. 

With clothes that are old and worn. 
The congregation gaze on you 

With cold and cruel scorn. 

If, by nature or by accident. 

Should you some member lack. 
The world will turn its gaze from you 

And let you see its back. 
This picture may not please the world. 

But the fact remains the same, — 
By humanity you are slighted 

Unless vou have wealth or fame. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 55 

We know not what is before us, 

Let us do our best today ; 
Perhaps ere another morrow 

You may be called away. 
Now is the time to labor 

On the battle field of life, 
To help our wearied brother 

In his bitter daily strife. 

Now is the time to comfort 

Our poor and aged friends ; 
Now is the time that everyone 

For the past should make amends. 
Look around and about you 

And see whom you can bless ; 
Is there not some needy sister 

You can aid in her distress? 

Have you an aged mother 

Who needs your every care? 
Have you a fallen brother 

Who needs your daily prayer? 
Is there not some hungry neighbor 

Whom you can go and feed? 
Can you not give in charity 

To a friend that's much in need? 

Just look about you, daily, 

And give what help you can; 
Don't let foolish vanity 

Keep you from being a man. 
Time is swiftly speeding. 

And life is but today; 
We cannot take our treasures 

To the lands across the way. 



$6 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

®Ij? Wih mh tiy? ^m. 

The house must be refurnished, 

Both my sisters said ; 
Everything was old and shabby, 

The crockery and every bed. 
The pictures were old-fashioned, 

And so were all the chairs ; 
Our neighbors' things were modern, 

And ours must be like theirs. 

They took one sacred treasure, 

My father's old arm-chair. 
They placed it in the garret, — 

'Twould not be seen up there. 
The pictures and the crockery 

And all things dear to me 
Likewise the same fate met. 

With each treasured memory. 

When everything was settled, 

It did not seem like home. 
I did not want to murmur, 

But my heart was sad and lone. 
They asked for my approval. 

And how I liked the style : 
The rest seemed pleased and happy — 

Ah me! I could not smile. 

The old things were my mother's. 

Thus I did not want them moved : 
The old arm-chair was father's, — 

A treasure that I loved. 
They both had gone to heaven ; 

So when the old things all had flov/n 
It made me sad and lonely, 

For it did not seem like home. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Of course it looked more modern ; 

But to me it brought a gloom, 
For it seemed like turning dear ones 

Right out of house and home. 
For often in my dreaming 

I had seen the loved ones flown, 
And I knew how they had struggled 

To make these things their own. 



57 



58 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



sweet eternal rest, 

My sad soul longs for thee ! 

1 find no peace or bliss 
Upon life's stormy sea ; 

I view thee in my dreams. 

Oh, take me to thy breast ! 

Let me now unto thee flee ; 
Oh, let me kneel and kiss 

Our blessed Saviour's feet, 
And float down heavenly streams ! 

Oh, yes ; 'twould be so sweet 

Could I now lay aside 
This wearied mortal clav, 

In heaven to ever abide 
And tread thy blissful way! 

Let me unto thee glide 
Ere other shadows come. 

I long for that fair home 
Where sorrows ne'er betide 

Nor thy sheep e'er drift astray. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. -g 



Behold ! she comes, — from whence ? 

From clouds with halo-crowned immortals. 
Hark ! what are those heavenly chords ? 

'Tis music from the portals ! 
The song — what are those notes 

I hear, " beyond the gates of jasper " ? 
Unto me now she draws anigh. 

So fair I long to clasp her. 

"Why weepest thou, sad heart?" she cries. 

The angels then surround me: 
" Sweet peace we bring to thee, dear heart," 

Then flowers they strew around me. 
" Fear not ; henceforth," she whispered low, 

" We'll shield thee from all danger." 
Such were the words she left that night. 

That grand and holy stranger. 



6o 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



O^ttlg a (Hup of i'nnm. 

I was taken with a fever, 

And it seemed my head would burst ; 
I longed for one cold draught of water, 

For to quench my awful thirst ; 
But I could not well obtain it, 

For the fever laid me low, 
But a friend who came to see me 

I asked to bring a cup of snow. 

O'er the snow I poured some water. 

And my thirst was soon appeased ; 
The draught to me was very precious. 

For my aching brow was eased. 
Many times in youth Fve wandered 

Where the silvery brooklets flow. 
But their waters ne'er appeased me 

Like that little cup of snow. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. gj 



The old year with his long gray beard 

Steps out into the great unknown. 
The voice of Time doth echo loud — 

" Behold, the new year is now my own ! " 
The hand upon the city clock 

Points to the midnight hour; 
The people gathered in each church 

Now offer up a thankful prayer. 

Upon the streets, in early morn 

The familiar sound comes to your ear: 
" Good morning, friend ! 'Tis a pleasant day ; 

I wish you many a happy New Year." 
And thus it spreads all o'er the land, 

These words so often told, — 
A message sweet to every heart. 

To both the young and old. 



52 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



3f am Mortt anJi H^ar^, Irntljrr. 

I am worn and weary, brother, 

And I long to be at rest. 
Yes, I'm longing, daily longing. 

To be numbered with the blest. 
Soon I'll pass from earth forever. 

To be with our mother dear ; 
I am tired and cannot linger, 

Though you shed for me a tear. 

Draw me closer to you, brother. 

For my voice is growing weak ; 
I've a message I would whisper 

Ere I pass away to sleep : 
'Tis that you'll be good to mother. 

For you know that she is old. 
Good bye ! now I hear the angels — 

They've come to bear me to the fold. 

I am worn and weary, brother, 

Weary of this life of pain. 
Though you miss me, darling brother. 

We will meet in heaven again. 
Now I hear dear mother calling 

For her darling child to come. 
Good bye, brother, I am dying. 

And my soul is going home. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I seem to see, through the misty future, 

The home where dwelleth the soul : 
'Tis ihumined with lights immortal ; 

This is our final goal. 
There are our loved ones gathered, 

Watching us here alway. 
Waiting till they may proclaim us 

Into the glory of day. 

There are no pains or afflictions ; 

Tears never flow down the cheek ; 
Faces are beaming with glory ; 

There are no sickly or weak. 
All the burdens we now carry 

Will be taken away ere we part. 
How many sad hearts now are longing 

On this blessed journey to start. 

There, with our Heavenly Father, 

We'll sing of His infinite love. 
Though now there are those who ignore us, 

We'll be reckoned their equals above. 
There will be room for the neglected. 

The forsaken, the poor, and the blind ; 
Though rejected and slighted by mortals, , 

God will ever to them be kind. 

Thus is the home for immortals 

Prepared by our Lord for the soul. 
Peace, happiness forever — 

Yes, this is our final goal. 
Let us so live, while we linger. 

That others may know the right way; 
Let us help the afflicted and needy, 

And blessings will follow each day. 



63 



64 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

An Angara 3iljiaji?r. 

My mind was wrapt in deep reflection 

And my eyes were filled with tears : 
I was pondering o'er the follies 

Of my bygone wasted years. 
And I thought, " Oh, what a failure ! 

I will have a bitter end " ; 
When an angel to me whispered, 

" You'll be happy soon, dear friend." 

Then I turned the light up higher. 

Wondering what the angel meant : 
Had some friend beyond the river 

This sweet message to me sent? 
Was there really some dear spirit 

Striving, with an angel band. 
To help me onward with my struggle 

On this dreary earthly land? 

As these thoughts came e'er before me, 

Striving to afford relief. 
Again I heard the angel whisper, 

" You must yield these friends belief. 
They are striving with you, brother ; 

Though the journey may seem slow 
Yet you'll reach the goal, dear brother. 

Same as others yet you know." 

Then a halo seem to linger 

O'er my wearied, tired head. 
Then the loved ones long departed 

This sweet message to me said : 
" Just be patient as you can be. 

For this angel is your friend ; 
We'll be always with you, brother, 

We will claim vou in the end." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



65 



I stood in the forest at twilight, 

And a silence stole over the land ; 
A feeling of sadness came o'er me 

That seemed to have full command. 
I gazed at the skies far above me, 

As I stood in my sorrows alone, 
And I wished that God, in His mercy, 

Would take me up to the Throne. 

Ofttimes I have wandered in autumn 

To this forest, so far from my home. 
And Fve thought of that sad, lonely evening 

When I stood in its midst all alone ; 
But I never will linger till twilight. 

For the silence would thrill me with pain, 
And I'd long as I longed on that evening 

If I stood there alone again. 



66 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Let business cares assail me 

Or troubles haunt my mind, 
I'll always have a smile or kiss 

For every child I find. 
Ofttimes, while seated at my desk, 

Composing verse or song, 
My little nephews gather round 

And for hours linger long. 

'Twas not so many years ago, 

At every mid-day hour, 
A little girl stood at the gate 

To greet me with a flower. 
They often flock around me 

And clasp me by the hand. 
The children are God's fairest flowers 

That bloom on earthly land. 

I've often gone to purchase 

Some trifle from the store, 
When the little dears would follow 

Till I reached the outside door. 
I kaew what they were after. 

So I gave them each a cent 
To purchase a stick of candy ; 

Then off smiling they all went. 

I love to watch them romp and play. 

They seem so free from care ; 
I love to hear, at eventide, 

Their little childish prayers. 
God bless the little darlings. 

Watch o'er them night and day ; 
O, shield them from all sorrows 

As they journey down life's way ! 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



67 



A bright little innocent lassie 

Went wending o'er hillsides and fields ; 
She was gathering the sweet little flowers 

That dear nature abundantly yields. 
I knew how much she did prize them, 

For she held them with tenderest care ; 
That fairy-like hand could scarce hold them 

So she twined a few in her hair. 

She seemed like a fairy amid them, 

She looked so dainty and sweet ; 
And though she gathered them freely 

Not one did she crush 'neath her feet. 
And thus it is with God's children, — 

They are ever thoughtful of flowers ; 
They love God's innocent creatures. 

And scf happy in sweet childhood hours. 



68 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



This world is naught but a Httle sphere. 

Afloat through fathomless space, 
And we are naught but specks of dust, 

And a weak, conceited race. 
So why be proud, you foolish heart, 

And hold yourself aloof? 
For we are merely little things 

And often need reproof. 

There's only One who is all in all. 

He rules each star and sphere. 
We have not power to even create 

The least in nature here. 
Unwise are they who feel so great, 

And pride they own the land ; — 
All power is given us by One, 

The Omnipotent Hand. 

Reflect and think that we are naught 

But dust, to soon decay; 
Awake and learn, conceited heart. 

That life is but today. 
Be kind to all while here on earth. 

And bow to none but God ; 
'Tis He alone that we should serve, — 

Thus saitli His holy word. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. gg 

3ln Hat? Autumn. 

Hark to the sounds of the murmuring winds 

As they rustle the brown autumn leaves ; 
Hark the weird strains they are moaning aloud 

As they sigh through the bared, bending trees, 
Mourning the death of the bright summer days 

That have flown to return nevermore. 
Shivering spirits come searching for warmth ; 

In pitying tones they implore. 

Gaze on the skies that are hazy above ; 

Gaze on the hills far away ; 
Gaze on the fields that are robbed of their green: 

All around seems deserted and gray. 
Hark ! the bleak winds are returning again, — 

At each corner they whistle and moan ; 
And the loved ones within seem haunted and sad 

As they dream o'er the days that have flown. 

Where are the ships that were sailing for home 

While the storms are rocking the deep? 
Are the loved ones on shore bemoaning their fate, 

Or are they now sweetly asleep? 
Will the homes in the west be lifted afar, 

And the prairies be swept by the flame? 
Will the storms soon abate and the buildings be spared ? 

All is well — when we trust in His name. 

Be still ! are the prayers of the people within, — 

Let the hailing and blowing now cease : 
We are longing for sleep, and the ghosts must depart ; 

We are anxious for quiet and peace. 
But the wisdom of God knoweth that which is best; 

Though to mortals all is wrong (so it seems). 
But let the dear Saviour nozv enter your hearts 

And vou'll not be disturbed bv such dreams. 



70 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



©Ijniugli X\\^ Eabtmtt 1BngI|t ixXnxvxL 

Through the radiant bright eternal, 

As the ages roll along, 
We shall journey through the spaces. 

Soaring, soaring, with the throng. 
Beauteous visions we'll beholdeth. 

Viewing stars and heavenly spheres, - 
Awaken now! Behold the glory 

Ere the Holy King appears. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. yi 

tptt 31 am 3IU. 



When I am well and happy, 

And dressed right out in style, 
My friends seem glad to see me 

And always bow and smile ; 
But when I am afflicted. 

All around is calm and still ; — 
Mv friends they never come near me 

When I'm troubled or am ill. 

Go, visit your sick brother, 

The word of God commands ; 
Go, help to heal his sorrows 

By the laying on of hands. 
But we've something more important: 

There are business hours to fill ; 
We have not time to visit. 

Our brother who is ill. 

You're an " awful splendid fellow " 

When you've good clothes and lots of cash, 
But when you've not it's a different thing, — 

You're nothing more than " trash." 
When from sickness you've recovered, 

Be it fever or a chill, 
'Tis all nonsense, when they tell you, 

" I'm sorry you've been ill." 

There is no real friendship 

Only those you love at home. 
Your only friend is money 

Wherever else you roam ; 
But we hear the same old falsehoods. 

And I suppose we always will, — 
" I would have been to see you 

Had I known that you were ill." 



72 



POETICAL INSPIRA TIONS. 

At ttj? (§pnn. 

The stage bell rang, the curtain rose, 

The music soft did ripple ; 
She stepped before the lights and bowed, 

And smiled upon the people. 
She paused a moment, sang the song, 

And every soul was moved with tears ; 
She sang a song that touched their hearts, 

Of olden, bygone, happy years. 

An old man sat beside me there ; 

Of heaven he was dreaming. 
He saw his dear old sweetheart there, — 

Or was this only seeming? 
A maiden just behind my seat 

Beside her friend was w^eeping: 
She saw her home and mother dear, — 

In death's arms she was sleeping. 

My soul was moved as well as theirs, — 

My promised bride was coming; 
I saw the lane, I heard the song 

That she was always humming. 
We kiss again, the words are sealed, 

The ring is on her finger ; — 
The dream goes drifting from my mind, 

It cannot always linger. 

How often now I hear the song. 

At times, when I am dreaming; 
Again I hear the sobs and sighs 

And see those sad eyes streaming" ; 
Come back again. Oh heavenly voice, 

And sing to me forever ! 
For songs like thine are seldom heard 

This side the Stygian river. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



73 



There is a land where all is bright 
And free from earthly care; 

Where spirits dwell in endless day, 
For darkness is not there. 

Immortal bands around yon throng 
And bring sweet flowers fair; 

And you may join them in their songs 
And all their glories share. 

O mortal man, whoe'er thou art, 
Sing praises to your Lord: 

Lift up your gates, hosannas shout. 
And join in one accord! 

Poor, weary soul, be not dismayed 
When clouds of sorrow come, 

For God will help you. when in need 
And soon will call vou home. 



74 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Amid the rustic scenes of nature 

Stands an ideal summer home. 
There are pleasant haunts and pathways, 

Where the people often roam, 
Lingering 'neath the pleasant shade-trees, 

Where the brooklets dance and play, 
While the lovely song birds gather. 

Singing you their sweetest lay. 

On the greenest little hillside 

Stands a smoke-house, made of stone, 
Gazing down into the water, 

Seeming everything to own. 
People often in it gather. 

There to smoke and chat awhile ; 
And the picturesque old fireplace 

Seems to answer with a smile. 

There's a pleasant sheet of water — 

Not the loveliest of lakes. 
But it helps complete the picture. 

When the earth in spring awakes, 
And the shrubbery and flowers 

That are growing round the place 
Strive to give you peace and comfort 

And vour sorrows to efface. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. «. 



I was strolling alone one evening, 

Near the lake I espied a small child ; 
I stood and watched her playing 

At the side of the lake calm and mild. 
I gazed on this picture of innocence, 

Had just turned when I heard a wild cry : 
" Look, quick ! " came a voice from the window, 

" Must my darling perish and die ! " 

Like a flash I roused from my dreaming, 

And threw off my coat in a thought; 
I jumped in the lake in an instant. 

From the water the innocent brought. 
Cried the mother, " You've rescued my darling, 

May God ever bless your dear soul ! " 
I bowed and bade her good-evening. 

Praising God I had taken this stroll. 



76 



POETIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 



" Oh, what will become of my soul tonight ? " 

Is a thought that comes to me. 
" Will I live to see the morning light • 

Or fly to eternity?" 
Such are the thoughts that come to my mind 

As I lay me down to rest ; 
But I know that God is good and kind, 

And He doeth all things best. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. »- 



An lEhftttttg ^0itg. 

'Tis twilight, and evening shadows fall, 

And night again will reign supreme, 
With darkness over all. 

Another day has gone to rest, 
Into the hopeless past, 

And time is fleeting, fleeting on, 
'Tis fleeting very fast. 

And if we live for self alone, 
What will the harvest be? 

So, sleeping soul, awake, awake ! 
And live for eternity. 

O weary one, whoe'er thou art, 

God will your sins forgive; 
For Jesus died upon the tree 

That we through Him might live. 
This earthly life is but today, 

And soon we will be free 
To dwell with Him who died for us 

Through all eternity. 
Yet there is much for us to do, 

So let us fight the wrong. 
And not for once our courage lose. 

With the gay and thoughtless throng. 



78 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

O God of love and power divine, 

Guide us by night and day ; 
For 'tis but nature that we err, 

For we are naught but clay. 
" Be not dismayed," our Saviour says 

" Though darkened clouds appear ; 
But lift your voice in low appeal, 

For I am ever near." 
We cannot, could not, walk alone 

And do all which was right ; 
But we can conquer by His word. 

For in it is the light. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

©IIP mih mm 

Calm and serene the morning" dawned, 

All nature was hushed and still, 
When a village maiden with golden locks 

Strolled down to the old wooden mill ; 
Quietly seated 'neath the willow trees, 

Watching the brooklet murmuring along, 
Dreaming there with a heavenly smile. 

Listening to the thrush's song. 

The sweetest picture of innocence, 

To the observant passer-by, 
A picture as fair as the artist's dream 

As she dreamed 'neath the celestial sky. 
The wild flowers were jeweled with heavenly dews 

Perfuming the morning air, 
The trees were humming a melody 

And the world seemed free from care. 

The mill was worn with time and storm, 

But the scenes to her were sweet : 
Her father toiled here when she was a child, 

So she loved this dear retreat. 
So daily she comes to dream awhile 

By this dear old wooden mill. 
For though the years might come and go 

There were visions of old there still. 

This dear old mill was a sacred spot 

To this maiden young and fair ; 
So she comes to dream, in morning hours, 

And forgets the world of care. 
The memories are sweet of the long, long ago, 

Though the wheel turns around no more ; 
The years have decayed the old wooden roof 

And gray moss now covers the floor. 



79 



80 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



The years may speed on the wings of time 

And the woods may sigh and moan ; 
But the days of the past will live for aye. 

And the brooklet run over the stone. 
The birds will sing while the willows weep, 

Repining for days of yore ; 
But the mill is through with its " grinding toil " 

And is silent forever more. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



8i 



The angels sang sweet anthems 

One early winter's morn, 
Singing : " Glory in the highest ! 

The lamb of God is born. 
Behold the heavenly Father 

Gives to the world, this day, 
A gift to earthly' mortals, 

To take their sins away." 

In Bethlehem's lonely manger 

The blessed infant lay ; 
The wise men from the east came 

To worship Him that day. 
The shepherds who were watching 

Over their sheep by night 
Came also for to worship. 

When they saw the heavenly light. 

All over the earth the message rang — 

" Peace and good will to men ! 
Behold this day to earth is given 

The Holy Babe of Bethlehem!" 
Oh, bless the Heavenly Father 

For His gift sent down from heaven ! 
He gave His only begotton Son 

That our sins might be forgiven. 



82 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Wnt Maxnin^ in i^pntuj. 

I stood by the stream in a village 

Where the flowers of nature had bloomed. 
The softest of breezes were blowing 

And the air was sweetly perfumed. 
All nature had wakened in splendor, 

'Twas a beautiful morning in spring ; 
The robins and bluebirds had gathered 

In the trees all around for to sing. 

The skies were blue on that morning, 

The sun shone bright on the stream ; 
I was thrilled with delight as I stood there, 

All of life on that morn was a dream. 
I fancied I saw all the fairies 

Who had gathered to pluck the sweet flowers. 
I forgot all my cares and my sorrows, 

For my soul was enraptured for hours. 

A maiden as fair as the morning 

Had ventured to gather some flowers ; 
She smiled coquettishly at me, 

For she knew I had stood there for hours. 
I was charmed by her guileless appearance. 

For her soul was as pure as the air ; 
I smiled with a pleasant good-morning. 

And soon we forgot every care. 

We strayed from the stream to the orchard. 

Where the apple trees were blooming again. 
And the birds seemed to sing, while we lingered, 

Their softest and sweetest refrain ; 
Time went speeding fast onward 

And the maiden soon captured my heart ; — 
'Twas onlv a vear from that morning. 

We united never to part. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

In the midst of a mighty forest 

Stands a grand old hemlock tree. 
'Neath it lies an open cellar, 

Where once stood a cottage wee. 
In it dwelt a colored family, 

And they numbered ten or more ; 
All that's left now is the cellar, 

To recall the days of yore. 

When out hunting in the autumn. 

Oft I've wandered to this spot; 
And I've seen in visions often. 

The family living in the cot. 
All the children were so happy 

As they gathered round the door. 
And I seem to hear them chatting 

As they did in days of yore. 

Oft I've heard my aged father 

Tell about this dear old place ; 
He remembered of the cottage 

And the happy colored race. 
So I cherish in my memory 

All he told of this old spot, 
'Though there's only now the cellar 

To remind us of the cot. 

W^hen berries ripen in the summer. 

Many people from around 
Go to pluck them from the bushes, 

On this dear old treasured ground. 
For they've heard so many stories 

Of this dear old " Nigger Lot " ; 
So they wander just to linger 

Where once stood the little cot. 



83 



84 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

®hio ISobtttH. 

I was gazing from my window, 

One golden summer day, 
And I saw two robins building 

A nest, not far away. 
They gathered twigs and grasses 

And placed them in a tree ; 
They worked " like little heroes," 

And both sang merrily. 

For many weary hours 

These two little creatures worked 
To build their summer cottage. 

And neither ever shirked. 
I fed them from the table. 

Crumbs of bread and cake. 
And every dawn thereafter 

They sang just for my sake. 

The summer days went gliding. 

And the dear old mother bird 
Sat faithful on her little eggs 

And ne'er complained a word. 
A little time thereafter 

I looked into the nest, 
And there were three wee birdies 

All feathered in their best. 

When summer days were over. 

And the little dears had flown. 
It seemed that many loved ones 

Had left me all alone. 
But they left me one sweet token 

For the kindness I had shown ; 
It hangs above my window — 

Their little summer home. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



85 



I have many a sacred treasure 

That I've laid away with care, 
And I love them very dearly, 

And not one of them would spare. 
But of all the precious tokens 

That to me were ever given 
Are those of a faithful engineer 

Whose spirit dwells in heaven. 

A handkerchief and carnation 

Are the treasures I love best : 
Tokens of a proud and faithful friend 

Who now is laid to rest. 
He was a youthful engineer, 

Killed while on his train ; 
And though we miss him here on earth, 

In heaven we'll meet again. 



86 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



That life is but an empty dream 
The poet with reason hath said, 

For tomorrow we all will be sleeping 
Along with the silent dead. 

Tomorrow, you know, is God's future, 

Tomorrow we never shall see. 
Today is the ending for mortals ; 

Tomorrow God's judgment shall be. 

Oh, why then speak of tomorrow ! 

Tomorrow's an unborn dream ; 
Tomorrow is just for immortals, 

Though to you it may not thus seem. 

Today all things are in motion ; 

But tomorrow, — oh, where will they be ? 
Prepare then for death, my dear brothers, 

For tomorrow's — Eternity. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



S7 



He starts at the early break of day, 

While the east is growing yellow ; 
Strong are his limbs and rugged his form, 

He's a powerful, athletic fellow. 
He earns his bread with the sweat of his brow. 

Ne'er wearying the whole day through, 
And he seems as blithe as the birds in spring. 

Though his earnings are small and few. 

When the sun has reached the midday hour, 

And to dine is the chopper's desire. 
He hangs his pail on a crotched stick. 

Above the bright bonfire ; 
And when he is through with the midday meal, 

His crumbs he scatters around ; 
The dear little chickadee comes with his mate, 

To pick them up from the ground. 

All day long the sound of his axe 

Re-echoes again and again ; 
And, though the wood seems tough and hard. 

Yet never does he complain. 
Long after the evening sun has set 

The wood-chopper's axe is heard ; 
And he sings, as he wends his homeward way, 

With the rollicking lilt of a bird. 



gg POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

'^Tis an old but a precious sweet story, 

That there's never a place like home ; 
We'd surrender all wealth, fame, and glory, 

If back to that place we could roam. 
We may journey over seas or the mountains, 

We may visit some old foreign land, 
We may linger beside castle fountains, 

But oh, home, you're a dream sweet and grand ! 

We may dine with the prince at his table 

Or visit the king on his throne ; 
They may seem like the gods of old fable, 

But they never can be like your own. 
You may dwell with the fairies in flowers, 

With friends you may sail o'er the foam, 
But these pleasures are not like the hours 

That you spent with the dear ones at home. 

The years have sped over the valley. 

Many dear ones of home passed away ; 
We see as in youth Ruth and Sally, 

With whom we often did frolic and play. 
Oft we dream of our loving old mother, 

We are sleeping again on her breast. 
What pleasures we had with dear brother 

In that place of sweet comfort and rest. 

Some members of home are now married 

And dwell in a place of their own ; 
We oft hear they wished they had tarried. — 

They could go where they pleased when alone. 
On the sofa dear father lies sleeping. 

He's so weary from toiling that day. 
In the cradle little sister is weeping. 

Oh, how the years speed away ! 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. o^ 

We may read tales of castles, in childhood, 

After years we may sail o'er the sea; 
How we long for that charming old wildwood 

Near the homestead that reared you and me. 
How many have wandered from mother, 

But no pleasure or peace where they'd roam ; 
So we know we can never find another 

Place on earth like home, sweet home. 



Q POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I saw her at the dance one night 

And I thought, " How sweet and fair ! " 
Again I thought, " Were she my own 

She'd never know grief or care." 
Those tender, dreamy eyes of hers 

Played mischief with mine aching heart ; 
" My sweet," I whispered, low, within, 

" If thou wert mine we'd never part." 

She smiled to me across the room, 

And then my thoughts were those of heaven. 
" She surely is " — I sighed again — 

"An angel to those mortals given." 
" Perhaps she came from fairy lands 

Or from summer clouds not far away ; 
Or was she gathered from the flowers 

That blossom in the month of May?" 

Her cheeks were of the blush rose hue, 

Her hair the summer sunshine ; 
Her mouth was truly Cupid's bow. 

My little sweet, would thou wert mine ! 
Her teeth were little rows of pearl, 

Her hand was that of Venus. 
Coul I but claim thee, lovely girl. 

No power dare come between us. 

I sought her for a dance that night. 

Her voice was low and very sweet ; 
Was this a dance or just a dream? 

I know my bliss seemed then complete. 
Those dainty feet scarce touched the floor ; 

There was music in her laughter ; 
I longed to say, " My angel girl, 

I'll love thee ever after ! " 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The doctor came, he smiled and said, 

" What thinkest thou, my brother ? " 
" She is a dream of summer lands, 

And I could not help but love her ! " 
The evening passed on wings away; 

I knew my heart was captured. 
And when I dream of that sweet face 

My soul is still enraptured. 



91 



92 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



{To J. S. P.) 

Beloved, thou art my southern friend, 

My companion and my brother. 
Thy patient heart is ever kind ; 

Like thee I find no other, 
'Twas thou who taught me how to trust 

My Father up in heaven ; 
'Twas thou who told me of the faith 

That Christ to thee had given. 

Thou saw'st me on my bed of pain, 

In anguish and in tears ; 
Thou told'st me if I trusted God 

I'd see far better years. 
Thy words have proven true, my friend. 

My burdens now are lighter ; 
The clouds are lifting from on high. 

And days are growing brighter. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. q^ 

Bright spring has come with song birds gay, 

And frogs at twilight peep, 
And gentle zephyrs softly blow 

As daylight falls asleep. 
Young lovers stroll 'neath evening stars 

And build air castles grand ; 
But very soon they tumble down, 

For they are built on sand. 

O lovely Spring, please linger long, 

And let us not grow old. 
But keep us young with youthful hearts. 

And let not time unfold. 
Alas ! you say it cannot be. 

For Time must have his say ; 
But soon the summer will be here. 

When springtime flees away. 

"Ah! what is spring?" the song birds chirp, 

As the brooklets run along ; 
It is the time when nature wakes 

And sings her happy song. 
The mother earth is robed in green 

And decked with flowers fair. 
And all the world looks picturesque 

To the heart that's free from care. 



94 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I was sitting alone by the fireside 

And dreaming of days that had flown, 
When the form of my old, sainted mother 

Came back from the world unknown. 
She came and sat beside me 

And we talked of each bygone time ; 
I lived o'er the days of my childhood, 

When life was a dream sublime. 

In a vision I again was an infant, 

Asleep on my fond mother's arm ; 
I was shielded from all of life's sorrows, 

Where naught could e'er do me harm. 
As I dreamed by the fireside that evening. 

And lived o'er the days that had passed, 
I saw again the old homestead 

And a boyhood too bright to last. 

Again I saw the old fireside, 

And youth with its studies and plays ; 
I seemed again to be happy. 

As I lived o'er those bright, happy days. 
I lingered once more by the wayside 

And I thought of my father so kind. 
I wandered again through the woodland 

And gathered its peace on my mind. 

Many visions came forth from the embers. 

As I sat with my mother that night. 
She was robed in garments immortal. 

Of the purest, heavenly white. 
I aroused and awoke from my dreaming; 

I had learned of the world unknown ; 
And I know that I'll dwell with my mother. 

When I leave for that bright, happy home. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



95 



When mother departed for heaven 

She left treasures to us, large and small, 
But there's one little token I treasure, 

More dear than the rest of them all. 
'Tis only a worn little thimble. 

But 'twas used on dear mother's hand ; 
She toiled for hours with this thimble 

For her loved ones on earth's dreary land. 

In fancy I see my dear mother 

When the lights are burning aglow ; 
She is sewing again with her thimble, 

As she rocks in her chair to and fro. 
Gold could not purchase this thimble. 

For dear mother is with us no more. 
Her spirit now dwells with the angels. 

On that bright and beautiful shore. 



96 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Poor Thomas was a weary pilgrim, 

A forsaken tramp upon life's road. 
Life to him was a depressing burden ; 

He was oppressed with his heavy load. 
Soon he was cast into prison, 

And his heart seemed breaking with pain ; 
I visited him in his sorrow. 

And he dreamed of his sweetheart again. 

I brought him many sweet flowers, 

To cheer his poor aching heart. 
And he fancied I was his sweetheart 

And tears from his eyelids did start. 
But one night, at the weird hour of midnight, 

His God let his spirit go free ; 
He clasped my hand to his bosom 

As he departed for eternity. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Thou art thy mamma's Cherub, 

My httle fair-haired Vera, 
And as the years go fleeting on 

Thou art dearer, ever dearer. 
A slender, fragile lily, 

That needs God's tenderest care, 
The angels guard thy footsteps, 

And hear thy every prayer. 

Thy fairy hands have gathered 

The sweetest of the flowers, 
The lovely birds of summer 

Have sung to thee for hours. 
And methinks the lovely Houris 

That dwell in Paradise, 
Have halo-crowned thy tresses. 

And smiled within thine eyes. 

When spring awakes dear nature 

From her long and dreamless sleep, 
And the little playful creatures 

Once more at twilight peep, 
'Tis then thou art most happy; 

For thou art nature's child. 
For thou canst see upon the earth 

Where God has sweetly smiled. 

I recall the midday hours, 

When thou didst often wait 
To hand me those fair flowers, 

Through the swinging garden gate. 
They seemed a gift from heaven. 

So fair and sweet were they. 
With a smile upon each tiny face 

Where thou hadst knelt to pray. 
7 



97 



98 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

'Twas something over a year ago 

That a friend to me did say, 
" I would Hke a correspondent, 

Just to while dull hours away." 
So I happened to think of Laura, 

Who was stately, tall, and fair. 
And I gave my friend her address, 

Knowing she would not care. 

He wrote her a little missive. 

Then waited a little while. 
When back there came an answer 

Which caused a hopeful smile. 
So they opened a mutual friendship. 

And the sweetest words were flown ; 
I said, " Now, Fred, if your courage don't fai' 

She'll some day be your own." 

As time went speedily onward 

I could see my friend was smitten ; 
So he kept on writing and writing 

For fear he might get the mitten. 
But I was not much surprised one day 

When, like breezes from above. 
My friend unto me whispered, 

" I believe I am in love." 

At last my friend decided 

That he would take a trip ; 
So he started on his journey 

With overcoat and grip. 
" I arrived down here in safety " 

Were words his letter bore, 
"And Laura is the sweetest girl 

That dwells on Jersey Shore." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. -^ 

They had planned to go to Buffalo,. 

To visit the exposition ; 
And there, in sweetest lanmiag-e. 

Fred explained what was his mission. 
He said, " My dearest Laura," — 

While his cheeks were burning red, — 
" You know how much I love you ! " 

So, soon, the two were wed. 

Now, if this was not a romance 

I would like to know the reason. 
It surely was as real one 

As occurred that autumn season. 
May their future path be joyful 

And no sorrow ever betide ; 
May peace and perfect happiness 

Follow groom and happy bride. 



^LofC. 



jQQ FOETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



It was in the early springtime 

That I met a maiden fair, 
Loving, kind, and tender-hearted, 

Though her Hfe had known much care. 
Years ago, in early childhood, 

As she played some boyish game, 
On the floor she fell and hurt her, — 

Fate thus made this maiden lame. 

In her I found as true a friend 

As to me was ever given. 
And those that dare speak ill of her 

Should never be forgiven. 
Always sunny and cheerful-minded, 

Doing whatever she could, 
Bringing a ray of sunshine. 

Let her stray wherever she would. 

To Mildred I'll ever be friendly, 

For aught the world might say. 
None but fools will ever slight her. 

All should help her over the way. 
The proud cold world gives not charity 

To the poor and needy kind ; 
So, God above, bestow thy love 

On the lame and on the blind. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jqj 

The night was veiled in misty gray 

And all was dark and gloom, 
When a ghostly form, all robed in white, 

Stole out of the silent tomb. 
She wandered down to a lonely street 

And tapped at a sleeper's door : — 
" I've come to haunt you," the unseen said, 

"And your peace now forever is o'er." 

The sleeper started at the sound. 

Not knowing from whence it came; 
Believing at first 'twas some wild dream, 

Or some miscreant playing a game. 
" Do you remember " — a voice now cried, — 

" When you asked me to be your bride ? 
Alas ! you left me all alone — 

With a broken heart I died. 

" Long years I wandered, after death, 

My heart was sad and lone; 
Now I've found you out at last 

For the past you must atone. 
I'll haunt you now while ever you live, 

No matter where you stray, 
No peace you'll find while here on earth, 

Nor when you've passed away." 

Next morning, when the twilight dawned, 

His spirit this world had left. 
An anguished look o'erspread his face. 

Of hope he looked bereft. 
'Twas the same sad story of a broken heart 

And a woman's awful hate, — 
She ne'er could rest till she'd avenged; 

And thus he met his fate. 



JQ2 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I sat dreaming alone one evening, 

Harkening to the pattering rain, 
When the silence was suddenly broken 

By a tap on the window pane. 
I raised the curtain softly 

And peered out into the night ; 
A weird, wild feeling crept over my soul, — 

I feared some uncanny sight. 

I stood and gazed intently ; 

Not a soul was there to see ; 
I cried aloud, " Who is it?" 

But no one answered me. 
"Ah, me!" I said, "'tis only a dream," 

So I sat me down again, — 
When the silence again was broken 

By a tap on the window pane. 

I now was thoroughly frighted, 

And thought, "Who can it be? 
Is it some poor ghostly visitor 

Come back from eternity? 
Perhaps 'tis only my fancy " ; 

But these were thoughts in vain, 
For once more came the tapping 

Upon my window pane. 

I roused my scattered senses 

And cried, " What have I done. 
That you should come to haunt me 

In my silence here alone ? " 
Not a sound came back to answer. 

But the noise of the cheerless rain ; 
And the howling winds brought back the ghost 

To tap on my window pane. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

It seemed this constant tapping 

Would turn my fevered brain. 
I felt like some one haunted, 

As that ghost came back again. 
The feelings that crept o'er my soul 

No language ever could tell ; 
I fancied I saw ten thousand imps 

That had escaped from hell. 

At last I knew that I must act, 

Or I surely would go wild ; 
So I stepped over to the curtain 

Like a timid, frightened child. 
I raised the window slowly. 

And there what should I find? 
The tapping I'd heard on the window 

Was caused by a broken blind. 



103 



IQA POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Ulii^ mh (iak ®m. 

When I saw the woodman going with his axe 

To cut the old oak tree, 
A lonely tear bedimmed my eye, 

As visions came back to me: 
There in its shadows I had often roamed 

With playmates by my side ; 
There we had gathered the acorn and leaves, — 

How happily we there did abide ! 

There we wandered when school was o'er. 

Playing till day was near done; 
Through the vacations we gathered, at times. 

Playing and having much fun. 
'Neath this old oak tree when autumn time came. 

And acorns downward were falling, 
We gathered them up, to make into pipes, 

'Till we heard dear mother calling. 

Well I remember the tales that were told — 

How father and brother, at dawning, 
Used to shoot game from this old oak tree 

On many a clear autumn morning. 
Many a woodman, when journeying along, 

'Neath its branches had lingered to rest, 
While some dear little bird was singing a song 

To its mate while building a nest. 

Like a monarch it stood, ruling the land. 

In solitude there alone ; 
It seemed my best friend had been taken away, 

So long had it stood near my home. 
Time cannot efface the memories sweet. 

Though this tree was cut down years ago; 
Naught but the past doth mark the spot. 

O'er the roots rank bushes now grow. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Ofttimes in my dreams I see the old tree 

Where in boyhood I romped and played; 
Shadows of sadness creep over my heart 

When I think of that cool, pleasant shade. 
O cruel woodman, why did you not spare 

That dear old blessed tree? 
Why did you not let it live for aye? 

Father Time would have soon set it free. 



105 



io6 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

{To A. N. C) 
Like a knight of old he stands 

For that Avhich he believes is right; 
Naught can ever daunt him, 

For God he will ever fight. 
Firm in every principle, 

Noble, brave, and kind, 
A friend he's proved of loyal worth. 

As good as I ever shall find. 

All through my days of sorrow 

When shadows would over me lower, 
He has tried to comfort me 

In each dark and gloomy hour. 
When others tried to thwart me 

He would my case defend. 
I know that while Fm living 

He'll always prove my friend. 

If the world should turn against me, 

And I a friend should need, 
I know the one on whom I'd call 

To do me some kind deed. 
If on life's future pathway 

I should drift astray, 
I know he'd kneel down with me 

And to God would for me pray. 

Not many seem to know me 

Like this dear friend of mine. 
He is a perfect gentleman, 

His virtues pure and fine. 
I trust the Heavenly Father 

Will grant his life the best. 
And, when through with earthly struggles, 

Will take him home to rest. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. -„- 

Down through all the ages, 

Since Christ was sent from the throne, 
The noblest lives have been martyrs. 

For some great cause to atone. 
Thus it was with McKinley, 

Beloved by every nation, — 
He was slain by the hand of a villain. 

In the midst of his pleasant vacation. 

Not did he seek for vengeance, 

But in kindliest words did say : 
" Don't let them harm the youth " — 

Then they bore his form away. 
Not since the time of our Master, 

Ere he ascended into heaven, 
Has such love or mercy been shown, — 

Others could not have forgiven. 

He did not seek for glory 

Nor for high and lofty fame ; 
He won his earthly laurels 

And deserved his honored name. 
A friend to every nation, 

A noble. Christian life, 
A kind, devoted husband, 

To his faithful, loving wife. 

Thus we mourn our president, 

A friend to one and all. 
He heard the voice of the Saviour 

And accepted His loving call. 
Never shall we forget him. 

The noblest of noble men; 
He dwells in mansions of glory. 

Away from all care and pain. 



I08 POkTICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



All through the long, silent night 

He hovers o'er my head, 
Soothing my wearied brow, 

Guarding my evening bed ; 
Giving me peaceful slumber, 

Until the early dawn ; 
Letting no harm befall me. 

Awakening me when 'tis morn. 

When evening shadows have gathered, 

And the lights are burning aglow, 
I feel his presence then with me. 

His blessings on me to bestow. 
Thus he watcheth over me. 

Waiting till life's journey is o'er; 
Then will he bear me to heaven, 

To dwell on eternity's shore. 



POE TIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 

in ti}t Bttmmn ©imp. 

In the dim of the morning twilight, 

When the night his flight is taking, 
A thousand birds, with one accord, 

Sing, joyously, "The dawn is breaking!" 
Their notes float out in melodies sweet, 

Awakening the summer morn ; 
The heavenly music soothes the soul, 

Bringing peace as the day is born. 

They gather in every branch and tree 

Around our peaceful homes; 
And there they sing in morning hours 

Their sweet, melodious tones. 
Each bird has a message of love to tell 

To his mate up in the tree ; 
And the dreamer forgets 'tis time to awake, 

For he seems in heaven to be. 

All through the woodlands and valleys fair. 

Their little voices are ringing. 
Spreading glad tidings all over the land, 

And a welcome to summer's beginning. 
No music so sweet as the lovely birds sing 

As it floats on the balmy air; 
Only the music that angels bring 

With it can ever compare. 

O beautiful birds, could you but know 

What blessings you bring to each heart. 
Ne'er would you fly to southern lands far. 

Never from us would you part. 
Though nature offers us picturesque scenes 

In many and many a way, 
Yet even summer would be dreary and sad 

Were it not for each beautiful lay. 



109 



no 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



My love for thee, my dearest friend, 

Is not the love of passion, — 
It is because that heart of thine 

Hath for me such compassion : 
Because through all my ills and pains 

Thou hast not me forgotten. 
The love that flows from thine own heart 

In heaven was begotten. 

Thy thoughts are pure, thine heart beats true, 

I read it in those tender eyes ; 
My heart is beating now for thee. 

And for thy presence often sighs. 
My dreams are ever of thee, dear. 

And these you must not question ; 
Perhaps, in future days to come, 

A few of them I'll mention. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jjj 

^{\t (§16 iKat? SglFr ipiarf. 

There's a picture in my memory 

Of a house and woman queer. 
The rooms were draped with cobwebs, 

For these she held as dear. 
There hung a horn beneath the shelf, 

To blow when in distress. 
I remember, as but yesterday, 

How odd old Kate did dress. 

One day my brother and his friend 

Went o'er to see old Kate. 
They took the broom when she stepped out, 

And the cobwebs met their fate. 
When Katie went to blow the horn 

She could not make a noise, 
For it was stuffed with dirty rags, — 

Oh, how she damned those boys ! 

An old, deep well stood near the house. 

With water cold and clear; 
'Twas o'er a hundred feet in depth 

Were stories we did hear. 
Not far from the old witch's home 

Was a spot called Tilden's Grove ; 
Around these haunts in childhood days 

We children loved to rove. 

Just south of this old homestead 

There flowed a silvery stream ; 
We often here did fish and bathe 

Or linger near to dream. 
The people oft did visit Kate, 

To have their fortunes told ; 
She gave the same old story 

Of love and lots of gold. 



112 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Time has made great changes, 

And poor old Kate has flown. 
There stands a modern homestead 

On the place she called her own. 
But memories live forever, 

And time cannot efface 
The strange old tales which still are told 

Of the old Kate Tyler place. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

QII|0 ^\\snt fCnng A90. 

I love to sit in tlie gloaming, 

When the lights are burning low, 
And visions come ever before me 

Of the days of the sweet long ago. 
I fancy myself an infant, 

Playing with some little toy ; 
Or else I am up to some mischief. 

As I was when a wee little boy. 

I live o'er the days of my childhood, 

When life was the sweetest of dreams ; 
I see again the old woodlands, 

And the silvery, sparkling streams ; 
I see the beautiful meadows. 

Where the sweetest of violets grew, 
Again I pluck them for sister. 

All jeweled with heavenly dew. 

Again I am hunting the pastures, 

Listening for the old cowbell. 
The sound comes forth from the distance, — 

Where they wandered they never would tell. 
Again I am rocking little sister, 

And singing a lullaby, 
Trying to keep her from crying. 

As the tears come filling each eye. 

I see myself, as in boyhood, 

Strolling o'er to the old Fuller School; 
I am reading my dear little primer. 

At times I am trying to fool. 
I return once more to dear old mother. 

After studying hard all day ; 
She lets me out for an hour. 

With the boys to frolic and play. 
8 



113 



114 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Once more I run to meet father, 

Returning home from his work ; 
He looks so tired and weary, 

But duty he never would shirk. 
Again I am searching his pockets, 

As I did when naught but a child; 
I ask him once more for a penny, — 

How sweetly then he smiled. 

We are gathered once more in the evening, 

At some old, pleasant retreat ; 
We are romping again with some lassie. 

Oh, don't she look pretty and sweet! 
We all gather once more for a party. 

To give dear old friends a surprise ; 
We stay so late in the evening, 

Next morning we hate to rise. 

My school days now are ended, 

The dreams of youth are o'er; 
I must struggle now for a living. 

The past can return nevermore. 
Thus do I dream in the gloaming, 

When the lights are burning low; 
The memories, though sad, are sweet to my mind 

Of those days of the sweet long ago. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jj- 



©0 ilar^arrt. 

In a large and crowded city- 
Dwells a maiden, young and fair, 

Toiling daily with the mill hands, — 
Life to her is full of care. 

With sunny smiles she greets her comrades, 
And a voice that's always sweet. 

Gentle, pure and noble-minded 
Is my little Marguerite. 

Whoe'er weds this little maiden 

Should to her be good and kind; 
No more precious little jewel 

Here on earth you'll ever find. 
May the angels, up in heaven. 

Guide and shield her with their love ; 
And, when through with earthly burdens, 

Take her spirit up above. 



J iQ POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

(inlg a ©ramp. 

" He's only a tramp," the children say 

As he wearily jogs along; 
They thoughtlessly laugh at his ragged clothes 

And shout some funny song. 
He slowly struggles up your walk 

And taps at the kitchen door; 
Please give him a chair and let him sit down, 

For his feet are tired and sore. 

Poor, weary soul, how hungry he looks 

As he asks for something to eat ; 
So give him the best you have in store, 

And tell him the message so sweet, — 
How there is a land for poor, aching hearts. 

When life's bitter struggles are o'er; 
And there we shall live in happiest bliss 

And sorrows shall enter no more. 

How many mortals there are, my friends, 

That jeer at this unfortunate man, 
When no one really knows 

But he's doing the best he can. 
What was his life in youthful days? 

He alone can tell ; 
Perhaps, if he'd only had half your chance 

He might have done twice as well. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



117 



The King of Day is rising 

O'er the far-off eastern hills. 
And his golden crown is gleaming 

O'er the vales and rippling rills. 
'Tis the glorious hour of morning, 

The song birds thrill the air, 
And the world is fast awakening 

To its weary load of care. 

He rules a larger kingdom 

Than any earthly lord, 
And when he speaks to Mother Earth 

She doth quick obey his word. 
How majestically he marches, 

With his sunbeams o'er us cast, 
But when the day is over 

He goes to rest at last. 



jjg POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

An lEfa^ttttig %mtt. 

Now the day has ended 

And the night draws near, 
Jesus, blessed Jesus, 

Hear our evening prayer. 
We are worn with trials 

Which thou well dost know 
Help, oh, help us, Jesus, 

For we need thee so. 

We are naught but mortal 

And we oft go wrong. 
Help, oh, help your children ! 

Is our evening song. 
Though we struggle onward, 

Yet we stray like sheep ; 
Help, oh, help us, Jesus, 

Ere we go to sleep. 

Thou art all that can be. 

Thou art life and love ; 
Help us, lead us, guide us 

To the land above. 
We would die without thee, 

Thou dost know full well ; 
For we know, dear Saviour, 

Thou canst all things tell. 

If we should go wayward, 

Help us on the way ! 
We, poor, weary children. 

Are but mortal clay. 
Teach us how to love Thee, 

Jesus, now we plead. 
Hear, oh, hear our prayer, 

For we all Thee need. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

As I sit here in the gloaming, 

Dreaming o'er the bygone past, 
Sad, sweet memories come before me 

Of a dream that did not last. 
She was like an earthly angel 

And I tried to bid her stay ; 
But bitter fate had so decreed it 

That my love should go away. 

How we roamed the hills together, 

Gathering wild flowers in the spring. 
As we linked our arms together, 

Listening to the song birds sing. 
Long we lingered, in the evening. 

With the moonbeams o'er us cast; 
She seemed happy, oh, so happy ! 

As the hours so quickly passed. 

She was a sweet-faced Irish lassie, 

With those eyes so sad and dark; 
But her smiles were always sunny 

And she seemed as gay's a lark. 
Yet her soul was sad and lonely, 

And the tears would often start 
When we thought that on the morrow, 

After all, we might part. 

Years have flown since last we parted 

On that sad, eventful day. 
And my life has known no gladness, 

For she took my heart away. 
But I robbed her not of virtue, — 

This alone my soul doth soothe ; 
And the tears have often started 

Trying hard my path to smooth. 



119 



I20 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Why we parted is no secret — 

'Twas the irony of fate ; 
For my hfe seemed not to prosper, 

So I could not wed my mate. 
But I trust that on that morning 

When our hfe on earth is o'er, 
That my soul will meet my darling 

On that bright celestial shore. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I am weary of life's battle, 

With its care and bitter strife ; 
And my soul is sadly longing 

For that great immortal life. 
As I sit here, oh ! so weary, 

With my spirits so depressed, 
I am longing, sadly longing, 

To be numbered with the blest. 

Years I've struggled on life's pathway 

And my hopes have been in vain ; 
Still I live with naught to cheer me, 

Though I fight with might and main ; 
Everything seems dark and dreary, 

Every purpose goeth wrong. 
God forbid that I should linger, 

If I'm here to suffer loner. 



121 



^fe" 



All these things may seem foolish 

To the one who knows me not, 
But I'm sure you could not blame me 

If you only knew my lot. 
M'any weary years I've suffered 

More than any mortal knows. 
And if there's no power to change me 

May death soon my eyelids close. 



122 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

I wander alone in the gloaming-. 

Where silence is ruler supreme, 
And a vision comes ever before me 

Of one among fairies a dream. 
I long at her feet to worship, 

'Twould to me be the fairest of dreams; 
I fancy I hear her sweet laughter. 

But 'tis only the murmuring of streams. 

This angel, whose beauty so haunts me, 

I met at the old chapel dance ; 
I have loved since that fated hour; 

She's a darling of modern romance. 
She's as fair as the fairest of flowers, 

Her hair is the brightest of gold, 
Her eyes are a vision of heaven. 

And her face a dream to behold. 

The darkness of night draws nearer 
And my soul thrills deeper with pain. 

Though I yearn to claim her forever, 
Alas, I am longing in vain. 

God, why hath fate so decreed it 

I should love though I never can wed? 
It seems, as I dream here in sorrow. 
That bliss forever hath fled. 

Again my peaceful old homestead 

In fancy arises in view. 
There dwells my sainted old mother. 

Her life on earth is near through. 
Though she suffers deep pains and afflictions, 

She seems not to fret or complain ; 

1 cannot help from deep weeping. 
For I long to be with her again. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

My two loving sisters — God bless them — 

I know they are praying for me ; 
And the kindest old mother is yearning 

Her darling once more to see. 
I see as I saw on that morning 

When they knew I from them must part; 
They pressed me close to their bosoms, 

Tears came from the depths of each heart. 

Then there are my own deep afflictions, 

With which I have suffered for years ; 
I have suffered as no other mortal, 

I have shed the saddest of tears. 
All life's richest treasures have vanished. 

My brightest of hopes but a dream ; 
They can never return to appease me, 

They have flown down life's gloomy stream. 

I've been loved in the past by two angels, — 

One fair as the lily or rose, 
One olive, with eyes filled with sadness, — 

By Fate I both had to lose. 

God, in your infinite mercy, 
Return me again to my own! 

There's no other power to help me, 
I know as I dream here alone. 

Oh, ask me why I'm not happy! 

Would to God that so it might be ! 
But mother at home is failing. 

And, my sweetheart, I cannot wed thee. 
These scenes, though a dream of sweet nature, 

Have no pleasure or charm for me; 

1 have sown what is termed seeds of pleasure, 
And now reap but dark misery. 



123 



124 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Dark the night, sad the hour, 

A shadow o'er us all. 
A fear, a doubt on every look, — 

Grim Death seemed sure to call. 
A peaceful look, a heavenly smile, 

O'erspread his aged face; 
It seemed from us he must depart 

For a far and better place. 

Kind to all, a foe to none, 

None better on this land ; 
Meek, patient, loving, and true, 

An ever-welcome hand, 
A tender heart, a gentle voice, 

Toiling till bent and old ; 
Angels now were beckoning 

To streets of purest gold. 

Night was fleeting, hearts were weeping, 

Slowly came his breath ; 
Heavenly portals widely opened, 

Down came angel Death. 
Gathered he our aged father, 

Bearing his soul to heaven ; 
Jesus, Lord, the blessed Lamb, 

Had long since his sins forgiven. 

Morning dawned, tears were falling, 

A cloud was o'er our home. 
We had heard the Heavenly Father 

Bid our loved one to him come. 
In the churchyard there we laid him, 

Where the birds sing plaintive hymns ; 
Peaceful winds above are sighing 

Low and mournful requiems. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. ^2i 

®I|0 B'aUiatiiin Armg. 

Like saints of old they carry the cross, 

Daring for that which is right; 
Fearing not for the scorn of the world, 

For God they ever will fight ; 
Lifting the drunkards out of the slums,'' 

Clothing the naked and poor. 
Preaching God's word to the fallen and lame. 

Praying for the afflicted and sore. 

Angels of mercy are the lassies and lads 

That carry the banner and drum, 
Asking but little to help them along, 

Pointing the way to God's home ; 
Telling of Jesus who suffered and died 

That we from our sins might be free ; 
Kneeling and praying, wherever they are. 

Asking God's mercy for thee. 

Homes are forsaken, mother and all, 

That they may battle against the wrong. 
Driving old Satan out of the path, 

By preaching and singing some song; 
Scattering blessings all over the land, 

Blessings of mercy and love. 
Wearying nor fainting, though toiling till late, 

Guided by One up above. 

Into where poverty and drunkenness thrive, 

Into the rum shop and den. 
Knowing that God will reward them in time, 

For saving fallen women and men. 
O God, bless these angels who carry the cross, 

Protect them wherever they roam; 
They are the ones living nearest Hke Him 

In that bright and beautiful home. 



126 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

There stands an old chair shop 

Not far from my home, 
Where we spend happy hours 

In the old seating room. 
We are termed a " fraternity," 

For we all are dear friends 
And hope to remain so 

Till life's journey ends. 

At times we seem angry 

With one and another; 
But it does not last long. 

We are to each like a brother. 
It's really amusing 

To see them all race 
For the last largest chair — 

They all set the pace. 

But when there are small ones 

'Tis a far different thing; 
They all gather around 

And commence to sing, 
Or else for to mimic 

Some odd looking " guy," 
And thus do the hours 

Pass speedily by. 

There are all kinds of verses 

Inscribed on the wall, 
That remind us of dear ones 

That have gone beyond recall. 
I cannot well name them, 

So many were they ; 
But in visions we see them 

Ere they'd passed o'er the way. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

'Twas not long ago, 

When summer time came, 
We used to skip out 

With the cards for a game. 
There, 'neath the pines, 

We'd chat and we'd smoke, 
Telling all sorts of stories 

And cracking some joke. 

Oh, many sad stories 

Have happened since then; 
For we all were so happy 

While weaving the cane. 
Though we may hate to own it, 

Yet we love the old place. 
And would like to remain there 

Till through with life's race. 



127 



J 28 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

" Fire ! fire ! " comes the crv 

From a hundred noisy boys. 
See the crowd rushing onward, — 

Hear the steamer's rattling noise. 
Onward, onward pkmge the horses, 

Well they know where they must go ; 
The firemen, too, are wild and anxious 

For the stream that soon must flow. 

The flames are rushing, flashing, snapping, 

And the smoke rolls deep and black, 
While the timid, scared onlookers 

Clear the coming engine's track. 
Men and women and the children 

Crowd around each window sill. 
Will they reach the ground in safety? 

Will the firemen save the mill? 

" God above ! " crv a thousand voices. 

" Help ! oh, help ! " are the sighs. 
Wild and louder they are shouting ; 

Hear the awful moans and cries ! 
Firemen brave, with manly courage. 

Raise the ladders in the air, 
" Hurry ! hurry on the water ! " 

Cry a thousand in despair. 

Each hose on the fire is streaming, 

Each red-shirted manly heart 
Works like knight in ancient story. 

Each man doing two men's part. 
'Way up in the highest windows 

The flames have now been rushing long. 
See the firemen in the building 

Working with a courage strong. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The mill roof now is slowly caving", 

Many souls there now have flown, 
Yet are many in that building. 

Wild and anxious to come down. 
Some are jumping, some are falling; 

Now the flames seem more calm; 
What few souls escape are weeping 

For the awful wreck and harm. 

The fire is slowly, surely dying, 

But, alas ! has been the death 
Of a hundred fated beings, 

Stricken by the blasting breath. 
How they worked to save the mill hands 

None but God alone can tell ; 
But their power was only mortal 

And how they fought we know full well. 



129 



I30 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



You must not quarrel, brothers, 

Or you ne'er will meet in heaven. 
If you have wronged each other, 

Pray to God to be forgiven. 
You may feel that you are justified, 

That the other was all to blame; 
But forgive each other, brother, 

In the dear Redeemer's name. 

Life is but an hour. 

And is speeding swiftly by. 
Seek reconciliation 

'Ere your brother dear doth die. 
'Tis naught but childish folly. 

Just lay aside your pride ; 
Be friends again, dear brother. 

Henceforth let wisdom guide. 

Our noblest friend was Jesus ; 

And, though hated and despised. 
He ne'er forgot His duty. 

He was faithful till He died. 
You may be a Christian brother. 

But with Christ you cannot compare, 
And if you wish to meet Him 

You must not hatred bear. 



POE TIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 

Only a little kitten, 

Rolling- upon the floor ; 
Just a little kitten, 

This and nothing more. 
Don't he look so cunning. 

Rolled up like a ball? 
How his feet go pattering 

When he hears his mother call. 

First he's in the corner. 

Playing with a spool ; 
Then he's jumping at your feet, 

Trying to make you fool. 
Curled then in the corner, 

Nose between his feet, — 
Who could hurt this kitten. 

So innocent and sweet? 

When he wakes up in the morning 

He comes running in your room ; 
And when you go a sweeping. 

He keeps jumping at your broom. 
If you go to take a little nap, 

For an hour or so, 
He comes and jumps upon the lounge, 

Biting at your toe. 

Who could hurt this kitten, 

When he's so cute and small? 
Don't we wish he'd always be 

Like a little rubber ball? 
Pet him while he's little, 

Let him run and play ; 
Soon he'll grow to be a cat 

And sleep upon the hay. 



131 



132 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

©too SnnnrrntB. 

'Twas a dreamy, languid summer day, 

We lingered 'midst the pines. 
For hours we talked on pleasant themes, 

And quoted lover's lines. 
My head was pillowed on her breast; 

She looked so fresh and fair, 
I often pressed my lips to hers — 

Such bliss as we had there ! 

My love was robed in spotless white; 

The softest winds did blow. 
And though they never meant her harm 

Such glimpses they did show. 
I seemed to love her more and more, 

For the blush that swept her brow 
Was proof of her sweet innocence, 

For which she need not vow. 

From that day hence, as time went on, 

She did not seem so shy. 
Our pleasures grew more real and sweet 

As days went speeding by. 
We wandered through the woods and fields 

To pluck sweet nature's flowers ; 
We had a heaven of our own, — 

There was " no love like ours." 

I would not here attempt to paint 

That sweet expressive face : 
Her cheeks of pink, large velvet eyes, 

That form so full of grace. 
Her rippling hair of evening hue. 

Red lips so warm and sweet ; — 
I see her as in days of old. 

While dreaming at her feet. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The old settee where oft we sat, 

When nights were warm and fair, 
Recalls those days of long ago, 

When we were seated there. 
Those dark green pines upon that hill 

Seem sad, as I pass by, 
For here we whiled such blissful hours 

Beneath the summer sky. 

Such hours as these she much enjoyed; 

She was truly Nature's child. 
A wrong thought never passed her mind, 

She was gentle, pure, and mild. 
We drank love's deepest pleasures. 

We laughed at gossip's tongue, — 
We only had one life to live. 

But once would we be young. 

When nights were cold or stormy 

We gathered near the stove ; 
The old arm-chair we seated in 

Was just the place to love. 
With her soft arms around my neck, 

The lovelight in her eyes, 
We loved as only lovers can, — 

Is true love cold and wise? 

Ofttimes, in spring and summer, 

We'd wheel for many a mile ; 
And when I'd try to pass her. 

She'd crimson, push and smile. 
Sometimes, when we were weary, 

We'd linger 'neath the trees. 
She sighed, " Now do you love me? 

Oh, tell me, won't you, please?" 



133 



134 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

To me she seemed a goddess — 

Not moulded out of clay. 
She made me think of heaven 

When my thoughts rolled far away. 
Her voice was flowing music 

And rippled soft and sweet ; 
Her hand was warm and slender, 

She was a dream complete. 

Of course, we had our quarrels. 

For true love ne'er runs smooth ; 
But Cupid hovered round us. 

Our childish pangs to soothe. 
She was noble, kind, and generous. 

And loved by all she knew ; 
The girls like my dear sweetheart 

On earth were very few. 

She was refined and spirited. 

But had no foolish pride. 
At our home she seemed an angel 

When my dear father died. 
She dressed in deepest mourning, 

For a time put mirth away ; 
She wept just like a daughter. 

And could not then be gay. 

In front of my old homestead, 

One lovely day in May, 
She helped me plant some roses, 

In a charming, homelike way ; 
They stand, a sacred treasure, 

'Neath the silver poplar tree; 
For father helped us also, — 

He knew how thev should be. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Beside the whispering brooklets 

We also loved to dream. 
She loved all things in nature, 

Or flower or wood or stream ; 
She was always just so happy, 

Winning and blithe and gay. 
With friends, at home or theatre. 

The same, sweet, natural way. 

It used to tease the neighbors 

To see our loving ways. 
But it made us all the bolder 

To see them stretch and gaze. 
They told all sorts of stories. 

They numbered more than few ; 
But what cared we about them? 

We knew they were not true. 

" Do you think they'll ever marry ? " 

They asked my mother dear. 
" Perhaps you'd better ask them. 

For they now are drawing near." 
The mischief-making people 

Did their best to make us part. 
But all their efforts were in vain, 

For we only had one heart. 

Some forty rods, or over. 

From the house I love so well. 
Two mighty pines are standing; 

There too our love we'd tell. 
A crystal spring of water 

Flows 'neath these murmuring trees ; 
We drank its waters from her hand, 

We wove the autumn leaves. 



135 



136 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

We wandered through the gardens. 

Again into the barn. 
She loved the smell of new-mown hay, 

And there to " spin a yarn." 
We climbed the steepest hillsides, 

To view the busy town, 
When the sunshine sank beneath the hills 

And the gold was changed to brown. 

We had another dear retreat, 

Where we often cast a line ; 
We cared not much for fishing, 

But in summer it was fine : 
The place seemed so inviting. 

The river flowed serene, 
The wild flowers sweet and fragrant. 

The hemlocks proved a screen. 

Ofttimes, amid the wildwood, 

While reclining at her feet, 
I could not help but wishing 

That she were mine, complete. 
For nature had perfected 

This darling girl of mine. 
And to give my sweetheart pleasure 

All else I would resign. 

The first part of our wooing 

Was on the old church steps : 
'Twas here we won each other 

By pressing lips to lips. 
Oh, how those kisses thrilled my soul, 

How happy she did seem ! — 
As I look back upon those years 

They seem a fleeting dream. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Though many a polished fellow 

Had tried to win her heart, 
There was no power but God's decree 

Could tear us two apart. 
She had no home or mother, 

I was all she held as dear ; 
In my love she found a shelter, 

Life's storms she did not fear. 

On many a summer afternoon. 

When the earth was parched with heat, 
We'd go where pines were thickest, 

To some old dear retreat ; 
And there, in sweetest comfort. 

We'd lovingly recline. 
In sweet love's fond embraces : — 

'Twas a dream almost divine. 

We journeyed one fine Sunday, 

To the old Horation tower. 
We viewed the grandest sights 

From there, for many an hour. 
The air was soft and balmy, 

All nature gay and fair. 
The apple trees had blossomed : — 

A day like this was rare. 

Among our many pleasant haunts 

Was a peaceful maple grove. 
I need not say what we did here. 

What could we do but love? 
The earth so soft, the woods so sweet, 

The world serene and calm. 
With no one there to criticise — 

We surely meant no harm. 



137 



138 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

She seemed to be most happy 

When I called her " my dear wife." 
She allowed me then more freedom, 

We lived intenser life. 
We knew we were not sinning, 

For true love knows no sin, 
And often in my dreaming, 

I think what might have been. 

The gentle springtime breezes 

Oft lulled us into sleep, 
While the angels and the fairies 

The closest watch would keep. 
If first I would awaken 

I'd steal the warmest kiss. 
My darling she would whisper, 

" Is heaven more than this ! " 

I see again the meadows 

Where those dear clovers grew. 
The arbutus, 'midst the evergreen. 

The tender violets blue. 
The buttercups and the daisies, 

The fairy ferns and all, 
The dainty, blue- fringed gentians — 

Such days they now recall ! 

The four-leaved clovers prophesied 

There'd be no clouds or tears ; 
The bluebird and the oriole 

Sang love songs in our ears. 
" I know all your secrets," 

The froggies used to croak ; 
" I've seen you two entwined as close 

As the grapevine twines the oak." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

" What's this I hear you singing ? " 

The boboHnk would sing. 
" She's fairer than the flowers 

That blossom in the spring." 
" I wish you'd stop your cooing," 

The starling often said ; 
" You'll teach my children love too soon 

Who were sleeping in their bed." 

" She must have been a country girl," 

I think I hear you say. 
No, she was born on those fair shores 

Where the shamrock grows so gay. 
She had lived in many cities, — 

A waitress, friends, you see, — 
But had never smiled on any lad 

Until she smiled on me. 

No one had ever kissed her, 

Unless it was her mother ; 
No lad had ever embraced her. 

Unless it was her brother. 
Oh, how I prized the love she gave, — 

First love is always best ; 
And hers was real, deep, and true ; 

A love I'd proved by test. 

I remember well how fair she looked 

When we took that first night's stroll; 
She was young and very winning. 

With a pure, unblemished soul. 
I strove to keep her smiling 

And not to think of home ; 
For her parents they were sleeping 

In their graves beyond the foam. 



139 



j.Q POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Henceforth, from that calm evening, 

I knew my heart was won. 
I asked, when next I met her, 

" My sweet, what have you done ! " 
She smiled and said demurely, 

" My lover, I am thine ; 
We'll live only for each other 

If you'll promise to be mine." 

" You've forgotten something, dearest." 

"What is it, sweet?" I'd say. 
And then I'd kiss those luscious lips. 

Till she'd near swoon awav. 
I've often clasped her round the waist. 

And hugged her, oh, so tight! 
Until she smiled and softly said, 

" You're a naughty boy tonight." 

Artists rave o'er Spanish girls, 

Of their blood so rich and warm, 
Their deep passions and affections, 

Their supple, graceful form. 
The blood that flowed through my love's veins 

Was the warmest ever given. 
One kiss from those red lips of hers 

Would send my soul to heaven. 

The light and airy clothes she wore 

In part to me revealed 
A form of warmest, softest pink, — 

A form I did not wish concealed. 
We'd sometimes stroll, on sultry days. 

To some refreshing brook ; 
And there we'd cool our tired feet 

And read some charming book. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. j_^j 

I view another treasured spot, 

Where, with cider, fruit and cake, 
Our thirst and hunger we'd appease, 

And often fair wreaths we'd make. 
Dear heart, those were deHghtful times ! 

My eyes now fill with tears, — 
Come back again, oh, heavenly days ! 

Come back, oh, golden years ! 

The quiet country roadsides 

Would invite us to abide. 
We were fatigued from riding. 

So laid our wheels aside. 
We dreamed beside the rural schools, 

And talked of fairy queens, 
Imprinted now within my mind 

Are those old pleasant scenes. 

How sweet life's stream flowed for us two! 

The storms scarce stirred our lake. 
We felt, before we'd loved a year. 

We were made for each other's sake. 
Why should we not drink love's full cup? 

My life, my soul, I'd given her, 
And she had given me the same, — 

Such love can only once occur. 

She'd often sit upon my knee 

And place those warm hands on my face 
And press me, oh, so tenderly ! 

This would in part sad thoughts efiface. 
If we had wearied from our toil 

We'd recline upon dear mother earth 
And float in dreams to realms above ; 

Oh those were days of peace and mirth. 



142 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

O, fair one, how I miss thee now, 

As through those haunts I often roam! 
Your vision always hovers near 

And bids me to thy bosom come. 
The picture that thou gavest me 

Smiles sweetly from the parlor wall ; 
While there I dream, the tears will flow - 

Ah ! those sweet days beyond recall. 

The ferns and fairies envied us 

When we loitered in the dell ; 
The dainty little innocents 

Seemed envious as well. 
Afraid that we might trample these, 

We'd turn our steps aside ; 
In some old strange romantic spot 

We'd cosily abide. 

The autumn had its charm for us: 

The breezes cooled the air, 
The leaves burned, the apples glowed 

On hillsides everywhere. 
The sumach leaves the frosts had turned 

In colors red and gold ; 
The chestnut burs would open wide 

When nights were stiff and cold. 

We loved to see the squirrels leap 

Into the gnarled oak tree. 
And hear the brown thrush thrill the air 

With notes so merrily. 
The chopper's axe we heard afar 

Was music, in those days ; 
With golden-rod and waxen leaves 

We made picturesque bouquets. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

We delighted in the autumn winds, 

They toned us with new hfe. 
With leaves I'd make a lovely wreath 

And crown my love as wife. 
Through dusty roads we often wheeled 

To some old cider mill ; 
This was a treat we much enjoyed, 

And we always took our fill. 

The hazy sky was not so hot 

In dear old autumn time ; 
The twigs would crackle 'neath our feet 

As o'er the hills we'd climb. 
The shady streams, though not so high, 

Went rippling all the same; 
The jay birds and the grays would shy 

As near the woods we came. 

Those lustrous eyes would fill with tears 

When she heard the huntsman's gun: 
How could they shoot those little things? 

How could they call it fun? 
She'd take the slender yellow ferns 

And twine them round her hair: 
"Am I not now your fairy queen. 

Amid these woodlands fair?" 

And then she'd fly into my arms 

And, with passionate embrace. 
She'd pour the kisses o'er my lips 

And then all o'er my face. 
Oh, those were rich, delicious hours! 

Alas ! they flew betimes ; 
A poet seeing, listening, near 

Had woven tender rhvmes. 



143 



144 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Betwixt each kiss what would we do? 

Well, we were iliaking- love ; 
And the birdies seemed to coax us on. 

In the branches just above. 
The cool, fresh breezes fanned our brows 

As we dreamed the hours away ; 
The leaves we'd rustle, wending home, 

Would bid us there to stay. 

And thus our dream flowed sweetly on, — 

Was ever such a dream ! 
That clouds would ever gather round 

We could not make it seem. 
" My love," she cried, in thoughtless glee, 

" What if those clovers lied ? 
What if, my darling, here on earth, 

I'd never be your bride?" 

We had loved three years or over 

When, alas ! from o'er the tide 
A message came, with these sad words, 

" Your sister, dear, has died." 
And not but this to blight our hopes — 

My health was failing fast. 
" My life, my soul," she sobbed aloud, 

" Must our heaven end at last ! " 

" I had never known what living was 

Until you taught me thus to love. 
But we have not sinned, as people said. 

And God knows this who dwells above." 
And as she sobbed these truthful words 

We parted by the sea ; 
But when we meet in lands above 

My eternal bride she'll be. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



145 



He was a man of mystery, 

So everybody thought ; 
He was honest, in every motive. 

Whose principles could not be bought. 
Why he was called a mystery 

Was because of his unusual mind : 
He was deeper than any ocean. 

But sympathetic and very kind. 

To mankind he was a study. 

Because of his quiet way ; 
•You could never know him thoroughly. 

Though you were with him night and day. 
But one thing is surely certain, — 

If he really was your friend. 
He would be so through eternity. 

On that you could depend. 



10 



146 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Ring out the bells for Easter ! 

For Christ our Lord has risen. 
The angels rolled the stone away, 

And bore Him from that prison. 
Had not our Saviour wakened 

From that tomb, so cold and drear, 
There'd be no hope for mortals, 

Beyond this earthly sphere. 

Oh, let us sing of Easter ! 

Oh, let us praise the Lord ! 
We'll shout with loud hosannas 

To Jesus and our God. 
What a blessed, blessed Saviour! 

What crystal rivers clear ! 
What a blessed home for mortals 

Awaits us over there ! 

There is proof in all of nature 

Of the resurrection morn. 
For the flowers that die in winter 

In spring again are born. 
There is hope for weary sinners. 

There is hope for every one, 
For God our heavenly Father 

Gave His only begotten Son. 

Oh, yes, we'll sing of Easter 

And praise the Lord above 
For His goodness and His mercy. 

For His wisdom and His love. 
We thank Thee, blessed Father, 

For this glad Easter morn. 
We thank Thee for the Saviour 

Who was for sinners born. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 147 



®I|f 3Fahtii9 of tij? Bag. 

How fair is the dream as the day slow fades 

And the shadows of twilight nnroU ; 
A calm, sweet peace rests over the earth, 

And sadness seems filling the soul. 
We yearn for the years that have flown far away, 

As the curtains of night fall again ; 
And we trust that our God will guide future days, 

That our lives may not be in vain. 



14^ 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



The world at large may laugh and jeer 

At the oppressed old Irish race, — 
There were none more loyal to our flag 

When the foe we were forced to face. 
Though foreign greed may own their cots, 

And on dear old Ireland prey, 
She yet remains unconquered, 

And will till Judgment day. 

In statesmanship or other spheres 

The Irish race will lead. 
By nature they are honest 

In every act and deed. 
Though fate has been against them. 

And humanity very unkind, 
You'll find they excel in every sphere, 

If you cast prejudice from the mind. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. i^g 

Only to be a child again, 

Just as I was of yore ; 
Only to be asleep again 

In those arms that are now no more ; 
Only to go to school again, — 

Oh, were I only a child! 
Happy, oh, happy I would be 

To roam the woods so wild. 

'Tis long, long ago since I was a youth. 

Playing with brother dear ; 
Long, long ago that I was a boy. 

And played by the brooklets clear. 
Blue were skies in heaven then, 

Green were the pastures fair — 
Oh for the days of long, long ago. 

The days that were free from care. 

Hours did not speed so quickly as now, 

Time did not go so fast; 
Days were like weeks to us children then. 

Years seemed always to last. 
Work was a burden we never knew. 

For father worked all the time ; 
Dear old soul! he's not with us now, 

He's gone to the home sublime. 

The bells of the cows were music sweet ; 

Our feet were ever alert ; 
We could jump o'er the rocks and run like a deer. 

And with the little girls how we did flirt! 
Sweet was the fragrance of wild flowers then. 

Sweet was the bird's morning song ; 
Never, oh, never will they return. 

Those days for which we long. 



ISO 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

iHilifiummrr Saga. 

Tenderly the dewdrops are falling, 

Kissing the evening flowers ; 
Gently the daylight is fading, 

Now come the twilight hours. 
Nature is sweetly reposing, 

Sweet, gentle zephyrs blow ; 
Shadows of twilight are stealing 

All o'er this world here below. 

Midsummer days now are with us. 

The world is a picturesque scene : 
Dear little daisies are growing 

In where the grasses are green. 
Blue are the skies in the heavens. 

Bright is the radiant sun ; 
Midsummer days will soon leave us, 

Ere it seems they had only begun. 

Down in the meadows, serenely, 

Sweet little violets grow ; 
Brooklets are singing their verses. 

To froggies who jump to and fro. 
Dear little yellow-faced buttercups 

Grow by the wayside and road ; 
Just as the raindrops are falling. 

Out hops the queer-looking toad. 

Bright are the stars up above us. 

Grand is the moon's pallid light, 
Sweet is the fragrance of flowers. 

Calm is the midsummer night. 
Life is a dream to the maiden, 

Oh, waken her not to the truth ! 
Let her, oh let her be happy ; 

Long may she dream in her youth. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jgj 

Midsummer days, how we love you ; 

Linger, oh, linger with us long! 
Keep us in youth, oh, forever, — 

Let not the time speed along. 
How we will miss thee, dear summer, 

When autumn will come for to stay ; 
How we will dream of midsummer, 

Oh, how the years speed away! 



152 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Our dear old peaceful river 

Rises twenty miles from here ; 
It flows through Cheshire county 

And through woodlands to us dear. 
It is shallow in some places, 

It is narrow on some land, 
'Twas made by One in heaven, 

'Tis ruled by His own hand. 

There is delight here for the angler. 

There is pleasure here for all. 
For 'tis shaded in the summer 

And golden in the fall. 
There are pastures by this river, 

Where cattle feed and graze. 
The children love its waters. 

And the sunshine o'er it plays. 

Down near the " Colony factory " 

Are boats which owners rent ; 
Young people ride in summer. 

On pleasure they are bent. 
The boys that go out shooting, 

Up near the old sand bank, 
Enjoy those days of practice. 

And for honors try to rank. 

This dear Ashuelot river 

Is very, very old: 
'Twas here before the Indians, 

So I've often heard it told. 
But time seems not to change it, 

For still it's flowing on, 
For the One above supplies it. 

And has kept it running long. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

O you dear, old, changing river. 

Your power runs many mills ; 
You flow through many valleys, 

You flow by many hills. 
Many artists come, in summer, 

And photograph some scene ; 
They stand and watch you flowing, 

On banks of nature's green. 

Oh, ne'er will we part with you. 

For you are here to stay. 
Ah, no, you are here forever. 

But we shall pass away. 
We always will speak praise of thee, 

To strangers and to friends. 
And we want you to keep on flowing 

When our earthly journey ends. 



153 



je. I'OETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

A IrFam. 

O'er the lake I was floating, by moonlight, 

In a bark with my sweetheart, at night. 
The breezes from heaven were blowing — 

Ah, me, what a glorious sight ! 
She was touching the strings of a zither 

And singing a ballad of old. 
And my heart leaped strong with fresh courage, 

For its burden was high and bold. 



■J5' 



The angels from above seemed to gather, 

Bringing jewels more precious than gold, 
And still my young sweetheart kept singing 

That ballad so high and bold. 
But soon o'er the lake all was silent; 

The angels had flown above; 
And then came a message from Cupid, — 

He told her now of my love. 

The moon had reached the mid-heavens 

As I folded her close to my breast. 
She knew, though I'd roamed the world over, 

She was the one I loved best. 
The man in the moon seemed to envv 

As I sat so close by her side ; 
Our dear little bark kept gliding, — 

A dream was the night's balmy ride. 

The night on time's wings was now speeding 

And the light from the east must soon dawn; 
It seemed but an hour since we started. 

And yet it was now near the morn. 
All at once I awoke from my slumbers, 

The sun poured forth in a stream ; 
I aroused and found, to my sorrow, 

Alas ! 'twas naught but a dream. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jge 

Strange visions float before my eyes, 

Angel forms seem hovering o'er my head ; 

Our loved ones fallen asleep 
Are near, not dead. 

A little brother, some years ago, 
Whose soul passed o'er the way, — 

I see his infant face now here. 
He's happy all the day. 

Now comes a sister dear. 

With sunny smiles I see her come 
To cheer her loved ones here 

And bring glad tidings of that home. 

A father's aged form draws nigh ; 

He seems happy as would a child ; 
His burdens now are gone. 

Ah me, how sweet he smiled ! • 

Now grandma comes with snowy locks, 

And tells of rivers clear ; 
All these dear ones I see before my eyes, 

To me they all are dear. 

A wayward maiden, tempted in her youth, 

Whom once, years past, I knew, 
Yes, she too is here ; she tells me 

Her sorrows now are through. 

The dearest one of all — our Saviour — 

His love He also doth bestow ; 
Yes I see His blessed face, 

He helps me with life's burdens as I go. 



156 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



ali|p Mn^U i^wxh. 



The Magic Hand's at work : 

The seed Hes in the mould's warm brown, 
Awakened soon, from whence it sleepeth, ^ 

By sun and raindrops falling down. 
The rosebush leaves begin to sprout; 

Dew drops at eventide are falling ; 
The blush rose now a bud will soon unfold, 

Now in the bush the humming bird his mate is 
sweetly calling. 

The sunlight now is swiftly fading, 

The day is nearly done ; 
The great round moon will soon be rising, 

The Magic Hand has hid the sun. 
All o'er the heavens the stars are placed 

By just one motion of His wand; 
All this is done, with wondrous swiftness. 

To show the power of the Magic Hand. 

A thunder cloud at noontime cometh. 

The skies are black as midnight hour ; 
The lightnings flash in awful splendor, 

This hand now shows its mighty power. 
Winds arise and hurl the trees 

As man would hurl a savage thought. 
In just one hour it passeth over, 

Then, see ! the rainbow's web is wrought. 

Time flies ; the Magic Hand is never still ; 

It stirs life's springs all o'er the earth. 
It causeth life, it causeth death ; 

Again in spring it causeth birth ; 
It has ruled all worlds since time began ; 

This hand doth rule in every land. 
Man's power is naught, or ever will be. 

For all is ruled by this Magic Hand. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



iS7 



®lj? Mmtl^ of 3un?. 

The summer days are with us, 

And the golden month of June 
Has awakened mother Nature 

Into bright and glorious bloom. 
All of life seems full of morning, 

And the world looks at its best ; 
And the songbird sweetly carols 

As he builds his little nest. 

As the evening dews are falling, 

Just at twilight, on the rose, 
And all the world seems sweetly sleeping 

In a calm and deep repose. 
Hark ! the nightingale is singing. 

And we hear his vesper song — 
" 'Tis the month of June " he whispers, 

When the twilight lingers long. 



158 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

As the evening sun is setting 

In the far-off western skies, 
A soldier boy is weeping 

As his comrade slowly dies. 
He was wounded in the battle, 

On that sad, eventful day, 
And his soul will soon be fleeting 

To a country far away. 

These two lads were chums together 

When the foe rose in its might. 
But they left their peaceful homesteads, 

For a cause they thought was right. 
" We must fight for home and country," 

Said this comrade to his mate ; 
" Though we ne'er return together, 

We will go to meet our fate." 

So they bid farewell to loved ones, 

As the tears were falling fast. 
And they hoped that God would spare them 

Till the cruel war was past. 
But God knew that, on that morning, 

One of them had hopes in vain ; 
Of this loving pair of comrades 

One would ne'er come back again. 



*■&' 



Now the cruel war has ended, 

Comes a soldier sad and lone. 
But his comrade's soul is resting 

In that place that's yet unknown. 
Years will speed, and soon this soldier 

Will be with his comrade, where 
No more wounds will be inflicted, 

For no battles enter there. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. j kq 



No mortal love can e'er compare 

With that which mother gives ; 
No matter what our troubles are, 

She will share them while she lives. 
From the time that we are infants 

Till we grew up into years, 
Mother's love it ne'er deserts us, 

And she shares our joys and tears. 

If we wander o'er " life's ocean," 

With its billows and its foam, 
How her dear old heart rejoices 

When we write a letter home ; 
For she sees that we are longing 

To be with her once again ; 
And with open arms she'll greet us 

While on earth she doth remain. 



i6o 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Sill? iesFrtfJi iParm. 

At an old deserted homestead, 

Far away from strife and noise, 
Float the forms of happy children, — 

Ah ! those bright-eyed girls and boys. 
Visions of departed loved ones 

Hover round the old fireplace ; 
And the memories of this homestead 

Father Time can ne'er efface. 

In my fancy, as I wander 

O'er those hills so brown and bare, 
I can see the sheep a-grazing 

On the hillside, over there, 
And the cows are gently lowing, 

As the shadows go and come ; 
For they see the farmer coming 

To drive them safely home. 

When the daily toil is over. 

And 'tis time for evening prayer, 
I can see the family kneeling. 

Asking God their lives to spare 
And to help them with their struggles 

Till they're gathered over there ; 
And the angels softly whisper, 

" We will shield you with our care." 

As I wander o'er this homestead 

Many visions more I see : 
Look, the farmer he is plowing, 

While the children sing with glee ; 
And the mother dear is toiling 

With her duties through the day, 
As the birds from all the hillsides 

Gather round to sing their lay. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The boys have grown to manhood 

And the years are flying fast ; 
They are longing for the city, 

To see what fate for them will cast. 
So they leave their aged parents 

To begin their city life, 
But find 'tis not all sunshine. 

With its wickedness and strife. 

Years ago there came a stranger 
To this fireside warm with cheer. 

And he wooed a winsome lassie 
Ere she'd grown long into years. 

Now she comes back home to mother 
With children of her own, 

And the aged father wonders 

Where the years have so quickly flown. 

Now the parents they are sleeping 

In the churchyard o'er the way, 
And the place is fast decaying 

As the years they speed away. 
So the farm is now deserted ; 

Yet the memories 'round it cling. 
And the visions of those departed 

Evermore the past will bring. 



i6i 



II 



J 52 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

In those days when we were children. 

And we used to go to school, 
We never knew care or sorrow. 

And how much we loved to fool. 
When we heard the morning school bell 

Pealing out .those joyous tones, 
How we'd hustle on our hats and caps, 

Speeding from our happy homes. 

When we gathered in the schoolroom 

And the teacher called the roll, 
How, when she would start a-scolding, 

Giggled every mirthful : oul. 
But we quickly came to si ence 

When she'd stamp upon the floor; 
How stern and cross sh jemed to us 

When she'd go to shut ihe door! 

Oh, weren't we children liappy 

When "twas time i:r c recess? 
Did we run and jump anti " holler"? 

Now I "should rather guess"! 
All sorts of games we used to have, 

All of childhood's joyous plays. 
We never seemed to have but joy 

In those dear old, happy days. 

Didn't we use to think 'twas funny, 

When the teacher she was out. 
To stand on our desk and " holler," 

Or make some funny shout? 
When we hustled home for dinner 

We would eat " to beat the band "; 
We could then fill up on anything 

That we'd catch in either hand. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Some used to hate their grammar, 

Others didn't like to read ; 
But when it came to writing notes, 

Why, that was fun indeed. 
We used to get the dunce cap on 

If we failed at recitation ; 
The teacher used to scare our souls 

Painting our destination. 

We used to get the ruler too, 

If we ever talked " out loud " ; 
But, take it all together, 

We were a happy crowd. 
When it came examination day, 

And when we found we didn't " pass. 
It used to make us jealous 

Of the balance of the class. 

If we ever came in " tardy," 

How we'd hang down our head. 
For the other scholars used to smile 

To see us turn so red. 
We used to say that we'd be glad 

When our school days were o'er, 
But we found it made us very sad 

When we could meet no more. 

Oh ! those happy, happy school days 

•Are the days that can ne'er return ; 
We see the years go speeding by. 

And for bygone days we yearn. 
Alas ! alas ! it cannot be ; 

No more we'll go to school, 
For, now we've gained maturer years, 

We must not play the fool. 



163 



164 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

With bleared eyes and swollen face 

The drunkard staggers home ; 
The house seems cold and desolate 

And o'er it hangs a gloom. 
A mother's heart is crushed with pain, 

And her tears are falling fast. 
While the debauched and drunken husband 

Is reveling o'er the past. 

He takes the bottle from the shelf 

And thunders out an oath. 
" Come, wife, have a drink ! " he shouts, 

But she the stuff doth loathe. 
" Ha! ha! you won't take a drink? 

Well, now, I say you will." 
So he takes up the bottle 

And the glass begins to fill. 

The dear wife now, with trembling form, 

Looks like a hunted deer. 
" Don't look so scared, you foolish thing ! " 

He then begins to swear. 
" Confound you, woman, I say you will ! 

So don't you tell me no ; 
I'm boss of this old mansion yet. 

But I don't want any row." 

She still keeps on refusing 

When he pulls a cruel knife. 
" Now curse your heart ! " the drunkard cries, 

And then he takes her life. 
He watches now her dying form. 

Not dreaming what he's done : — 
" I guess she wished she'd not refused 

For she might at least took one." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The children now are wakened 

By the mothers dying moans ; 
And the father cries, " Keep quiet, 

Or ril break your cursed bones ! " 
They are naught but Httle children, 

And, not thinking what he said, 
They cry, " Oh, papa ! papa ! 

Our mamma dear is dead ! " 

He now begins to sober up. 

As he hears the children cry ; 
He hears them say, in pitying tones, 

" What made dear mamma die ? " 
The tears arouse him more and more, 

And his stupor now has gone ; 
He looks, reflects, and thinks, 

He sees the broken home. 

" My God ! my God ! what have I done ? 

I've murdered my poor wife ! " 
He sees the cruel wounds he made 

And the bloody-looking knife ; 
" O God, forgive me for this deed ! " 

For his reason now has come ; 
" Ten thousand demons tempted me. 

Which were in the poison rum." 

He raves in tears and wild despair. 

Gazing out into the night. 
" My God ! my God ! I will go mad ! 

Oh, see this awful sight ! 
I swear before the great White Throne 

That 111 drink no more through life. 
'Twas rum, that cursed poison, rum. 

That murdered my poor wife." 



165 



l55 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

But justice now must take its course ; 

This man could not be freed, 
Although the friends that sold the stuff 

Were the cause of the awful deed. 
He must serve for life in prison. 

Where peace would never come ; 
And thus it is with thousands 

From the effects of the accursed rum. 



POE TIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 



167 



My sisters, yes, I love them. 

Though I sometimes fret and moan, 
But I know how much I'd miss them 

Should they leave me here alone. 
I wish that I might help them 

With life's burden and its care; 
This has been my hope forever, 

This has been my daily prayer. 

I hope and trust in heaven 

That the time is drawing near 
That I'll be in a way to help them. 

For to me they are very dear. 
I'll work from early morning 

Until evening's setting sun; 
I've been a wayward brother, 

I've been a wayward son. 

If God will only help me 

I'll work for those I love; 
I'll struggle hard with courage 

And trust in Christ above. 
I know my sisters love me, 

And have prayed both day and night; 
Yes, I love my sisters dearly. 

And for them I'll ever fight. 



1 58 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Everybody seems to slight her, 

This girl of ill renown, 
And those who should assist her 

Are the ones who thrust her down. 
Oh, proud, cold-hearted woman, 

Why scorn this wayward one? 
Perhaps her sins would not compare 

With those that you have done. 

Oh, you think that you'll be classed with her 

If you're seen with one so wild. 
For everybody says she's 

But a wayward, wicked child. 
Do you call yourself a Christian, 

And hold yourself aloof? 
Just ask yourself if your own life 

Does not need reproof. 

Did you ever stop to ask yourself 

What made this fair girl wild? 
Perhaps that she was tempted 

When nothing but a child. 
Do you believe that God in heaven 

Thinks you are doing right, 
• When you do not help His lost ones 

Out of darkness into light? 

Just cast aside your foolish pride 

And get to work for God, 
If you wish to reap the promises 

Christ offers in His word. 
For when her days are over, 

And we meet before the throne, 
It may be that her place near Him 

Will be nearer than your own. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



169 



tn Wt Art (^^i}nsh i^ont^/' 

All the face of heaven is jeweled 

With bright diamonds of the night, 
And the silvery moon is beaming 

With a calm and peaceful light; 
While the angels up in heaven 

Gather 'round the great white throne, 
Singing sweet and holy anthems. 

In a sweet, angelic tone. 

In that bright and holy city, 

Where we'll meet to part no more, 
Angel eyes are looking downward. 

Soon to guide their loved ones o'er. 
For they see that they are toiling. 

While the weary days drag past, 
And with open arms they'll greet us 

When we're gathered home at last. 

" So dear, beloved brother," 

I hear my Saviour say, 
" When your daily toil is over, 

Just kneel thee down and pray. 
This will help you o'er the valley. 

And your cares upon life's river ; 
And when your life is ended here 

Thou shalt dwell with me forever." 



17© 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

X 

Ten thousand men are gathered, 

Getting ready for the fight, 
For they see the foe advancing, 

In the early morning Hght. 
Soon the cannons will be roaring 

Upon the battlefield, 
And they fight with loyal valor 

Till they see which side must yield. 

Look ! the foe is drawing nearer. 

And the fight will soon be on. 
Many mortals will be wounded 

Before the setting sun. 
How the generals' swords are flashing 

Upon the morning air, 
And the dear old flag is waving 

With a zeal that's ever there. 

Hark ! the bugle call has sounded, 

But the fight may not last long. 
Brave hearts are plunging onward. 

With a courage great and strong. 
Can I see our comrades yielding? 

No, their hearts are brave and true; 
And if need they'll fight forever 

For the old red, white, and blue. 

Now the battle it is raging, 

And the fight is at its worst, 
And the mangled soldiers 're falling, 

As the shrieking bombshells burst. 
Both sides feel sure of victory, 

But we know our boys are true; 
And we feel that they will conquer. 

With the old red, white, and blue. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Our boys have won the battle, 

But it was a fearful sight 
That the stars of heaven shone on, 

And the moon's cold, pallid light. 
For a thousand souls were wounded 

In that awful, cruel fray. 
And many comrades now are dying. 

Who never more will see the day. 



171 



172 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



He's not a worldly fellow, 

And his duty never shirks. 
But he's brave as any hero, 

And proud of the fact that he works. 
His parents are worn and aged. 

He toils to keep the home ; 
And when he thinks of that fireside 

He never cares to roam. 

You may say that he's too quiet, 

Because he's not out with the boys ; 
But his heart is with his loved ones, 

And he hates your brawling noise. 
When his daily toil is over 

And your would-be sports roam, 
This friend of mine is sitting 

With his loved ones at home. 

He sees the time a-coming 

When his parents will be gone ; 
So he works with manly courage. 

To help them linger on. 
God will bless him for his labors, 

And, when his work is through, 
He will take him to his loved ones. 

Where they'll meet above the blue. 



173 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Memorial iaij. 

'Tis the day we go with flowers 

To adorn the graves we prize ; 
The sun looks down in sorrow 

Where each sleeping comrade lies. 
The willow trees, with dewy tears, 

Are weeping overhead. 
While singing birds, in plaintive notes, 

Are mourning for the dead. 

Do we who live on earth today 

E'er dream how much it cost 
To save our flag and free the slaves? 

Do we realize the loss? 
The rusty swords and vacant chairs 

Are emblems of the past ; 
The dear old gun that father bore 

We'll keep while life doth last. 

Do you think those dear old veterans 

Who fought to free the slaves 
Enjoyed those cruel, bleeding wounds 

That brought them to their graves? 
We ne'er can fully understand 

What cruel pains they bore ; 
No living man can ever tell 

But those who fought 'midst cannons roar. 

The armless sleeve and wooden leg 

Prove more than simple words. 
They tell of what their struggles were, 

And of men swept down in hordes. 
The proud old flag that comrades bore 

Is in the dear old post ; 
It hangs upon the wall o'er there, — 

'Tis the flag we love the most. 



174 



POETIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 

The dear old veterans that remain 

Upon the earth's broad crest, 
Still march with loving reverence 

To where their comrades rest. 
With low-bowed heads and tearful eyes 

They place the flag today 
On graves of sleeping comrades, 

As silently they pray. 

The roll is called in accents sad, 

The honor roll is read; 
The muffled drum and bugle call 

Do not disturb the dead. 
The day is called " Memorial Day," 

We decorate with flowers 
The graves wherein our heroes sleep 

Until the final hours. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. j^e 



Dear Father, how much we all miss thee, 

We miss thee and are sad; 
Yet a ray of sunshine comes to us, 

For we know thy spirit is glad. 
You were always kind to all mortals 

While you lived with us here below, 
And we know that He who is love itself 

Repays you for it now. 

No matter how worn and weary you were. 

Weighted with age and care. 
You'd always spring to give us aid. 

Our griefs you'd always share. 
But, dear father, we know that your spirit 

Is in heavenly mansions above, 
For God knew that you trusted sincerely 

In His infinite wisdom and love. 

The time is soon coming, dear father. 

When our spirits will all pass away; 
Then we'll meet you in heaven, dear father, 

Where we'll always be with you to stay. 
This life is not long for your loved ones, 

For time is not long at the best. 
How happy we'll be when we greet you. 

In that place of sweet comfort and rest. 



176 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



'Tis the weird hour of midnight, 

That dark, uncanny hour 
When the ghosts, from every churchyard, 

Stalk forth in spirit power. 

In those grand old ancient castles 
Where knighthood reigns supreme. 

These ghosts they stand in armor bright 
To protect each bygone queen. 

Old Satan's imps are revelling 

In regions down below; 
While o'er this whole wide world of ours 

His devilish seeds he goes to sow. 

Black demons of the city 

Are searching everywhere. 
To see if they can ruin 

Some maiden pure and fair. 

The pirate he is searching, 

With his wicked heart so bold, 

To see if he can plunder 

Some vessel filled with gold. 

The gloomy pines are sighing 

For a soul that's in despair ; 
While the winds are sadly mourning, 

Trying hard his fate to share. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. j-- 

Our friends long since departed 

Come to us in the night, 
To gather 'round our hearthstones, 

All robed in garments white. 

The elves that dwell in myth-land 

Dance 'round their fires bright; 
Telling fairy tales and stories, 

Till early morning light. 



12 



178 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



^nx iohm in tl|? Wtmn Bttp. 

" Tell me 'bout the ocean, papa, 

And the things down in the sea." 
" Then come here, my little Nellie, 

And sit down upon my knee. 
I will tell you of your uncle, 

Who lies in the ocean deep, 
And the storm that swept the ocean 

When the crew were fast asleep. 

" Your uncle was a daring sailor. 

And he loved to roam the sea, 
Never seeming to be happy 

When on land he used to be. 
Many tales he used to tell us, 

Tales of creatures of the deep; 
Never dreaming in the future 

'Neath the billows he would sleep. 



Chorus : 



" Far down in the rolling ocean, 

Lies a vessel with its crew; 
There your uncle sleeps, my darling, 

'Neath the waters deep and blue. 
They were sailing from a country 

When a storm swept o'er the deep. 
Sinking the ship with all its loved ones. 

Ere they'd wakened from their sleep." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



179 



ion't Ir^ak four Motli^r s Ifeart. 

A pretty maid is leaving home. 

To win herself a name. 
A mother dear prays God to keep 

Her darling child from shame. 
She kisses her a fond farewell, 

For they are soon to part ; 
She says, " Dear child, where'er you stray, 

Don't break your mother's heart." 

In a great town, on a lonely street, 

Sits a maiden, bowed in tears. 
An old and haggard look she has. 

For one so young in years. 
" Oh, why did I e'er leave ^my home. 

Or from my parents part? 
I've led a life of sin and shame, 

And broken mother's heart." 



Chorus : 



You're leaving home now, all alone. 

To mingle in life's whirl ; 
You're young and fair, with golden hair. 

And yet a little girl. 
So listen, dear, these words now hear, 

For we are soon to part : 
Where'er you stray, upon life's way. 

Don't break your mother's heart. 



i8o 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

{Written for my mother.) 

A careworn and aged mother 

Raised her eyes up towards the wall; 
As she gazed upon the picture 

Hottest tears began to fall ; 
'Twas the picture of her baby boy 

Who had grown a wayward son ; 
" He has suffered," she then murmured, 

" For the wrongs that he has done." 

Then she knelt before the picture. 

Asking God to answer prayer : 
" May he yet return to mother 

And escape the tempter's snare. 
He was restless and downhearted. 

So he was not much to blame : 
So forgive him, Heavenly Father, 

In the dear Redeemer's name." 

From his friend she gets this message, 

" He is yearning now for thee; 
He will prove a dear companion, 

And a blessing yet will be. 
God will guide him in the future, 

Giving answer to thy prayer; 
Thy dear son will yet recover, 

And will all your sorrows share. 

Chorus : 

Many years ago the artist 

Photographed that baby face; 
It has hung, since it was taken. 

In that same devoted place. 
He was then a winning baby, 

Dressed in frocks of pink and blue; 
His little cheeks were pink as roses. 

And the eyes like his were few. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. jg^ 



Mamma darling, you are lonely, 

And I know the reason why: 
'Tis because dear papa's left us, 

That you sit here now and cry. 
Let me kiss you, mamma darling. 

Let me kiss away your tears, 
For we both are sad and lonely, 

For we've been alone for years. 

Yes, my darling, I am lonely, 

For I loved your papa dear, 
But he left me for another. 

Seeming not for us to^ care. 
I was faithful, little darling. 

Faithful, loving, kind and true ; 
He was cruel to forsake us, 

And may yet regret and rue. 



Chorus : 



Let me kiss you, mamma darling. 

It may soothe your aching heart. 
'Twas not kind of my dear papa 

From his loving ones to part. 
But some day we will be happy, — 

'Tis the promise God has given, — 
Some day He will take us, mamma, 

To dwell with Him in heaven. 



jg2 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



3(n % ICanh an BiaM attb 3Fatr. 

In the lands beyond the river 

Sweetest music can be heard : 
Golden harps are always playing, 

Softest songs from every bird. 
Fairest flowers are ever growing, 

Without thorns to pierce our hands ; 
'Tis a life of peace and gladness, 

In the beautiful heavenly lands. 

Crystal rivers there are flowing 

By the great White Throne above. 
Strife and worry never enter 

In the lands of perfect love. 
At the Saviour's feet we'll gather, 

There to worship him alway. 
Soon we'll meet our many loved ones 

Where the rivers roll awav. 



Chorus 



Oh, the land beyond the river ! 

Oh, the land of pure delight ! 
Soon we'll meet our dear Redeemer, 

Garbed in robes of spotless white. 
He will take us to the Father, 

Where our friends await us there ; 
We will sing his praises ever 

In the lands so sweet and fair. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



183 



We were standing in the shadow 

Of two tall and lofty pines. 
She was blushing deepest crimson 

As she promised to be mine. 
The robins, they were singing, 

And I seemed to hear them say, 
" Though you love your darling Bessie 

She'll from you be called away." 

Many days, in spring and summer, 

We dreamed beneath the pines. 
Telling tales of love and roses, 

Weaving stories into rhymes. 
There we lingered, in their shadow, 

While the sunbeams kissed her hair. 
Those were days of sweetest comfort. 

When the world seemed free from care. 

Chorus : 

In the shadow of the pines 

There I pressed her to my heart. 
There I kissed my darling Bessie, 

And we vowed to never part ; 
But one day in early springtime, 

Fate it seems had so decreed 
That my darling sweetheart Bessie 

From her promise must be freed. 



1 84 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



All Alott^ Ipon tl|0 iiountaitt. 

Far away upon the mountain, 

In a small and battered home, 
Not a soul to cheer the hour, 

Dwells a hermit, all alone. 
He cares not for worldly pleasures 

Women are his bitterest foe; 
Thus he dwells upon the mountain 

Where he wandered years ago. 

Years ago, in early manhood, 

When his heart was young and gay, 
He was slighted by a maiden. 

With another youth she went away. 
Though she left him broken-hearted. 

Causing him a life of pain. 
He would gladly have forgiven. 

But she ne'er returned again. 



Chorus : 



All alone upon the mountain 

He will dwell until the end. 
Not a soul to love and cheer him. 

Not a soul to call him friend. 
Will he meet her up in heaven ? 

Will he meet her there again? 
Where no power can ever part them, 

Will his love then be in vain? 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



i85 



'Twas a night in lovely summer, 

Not so many years ago, 
Floating down the old Ashuelot, 

Sailed an Indian in his canoe. 
For he loved its peaceful waters 

And its banks of nature's green; 
Thus he floated in the evening, 

When all was quiet and serene. 

Once there stood a maid and lover 

By the river calm and clear; 
He was calling her his sweetheart, 

In a language strange and queer. 
He was decked in beads and feathers, 

Being chief of all the tribe ; 
Thus they stood, one moonlight evening, 

Both the groom and happy bride. 



Chorus : 



By the old Ashuelot river, 

By the river that we love. 
Lived the Indian in his wigwam, 

Life was like the home above. 
There he lived in peace and comfort. 

Hunting deer and planting corn ; 
But they drove him to the mountain, 

Causing him the white to scorn. 



J 35 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



®IjF MnUh Qlrattt. 

The night was dark and cloudy, 

But the train hands did not fear, 
For the man that held the throttle 

Was a brave young engineer. 
The train moved very slowly, 

For, it seems, the night before. 
Near a bridge had been a washout. 

Where the freight train must pass o'er. 

The train had reached the trestle. 

When the piers beneath gave way; 
Down plunged the fated engine 

Into death's dark bay. 
Killing two noble comrades, 

A brakeman and engineer; 
Many a loved one mourns today, 

For those they loved so dear. 



Chorus : 



Down into death's dark valley, 

Plunged the fated train. 
Killing two noble comrades, 

Whom we ne'er will see again. 
But some time beyond this dreary earth. 

When our spirits are set free, 
We will meet those faithful heroes, 

Beside the tideless sea. 



FOBllCAL INSPIRAJIONS. 



187 



In that far-away beautiful city, 

Where the gates are ever ajar, 
My dear angel mother is watching; 

Her soul is my soul's guiding star. 
She stands at the heavenly portals 

And longs for me to be there ; 
Oh, soon will I meet her in heaven, 

In that beautiful city so fair. 



Chorus 



I am longing to meet thee, dear mother, 

In the realms of glory and love ; 
I am longing to meet thee, dear mother, 

To abide in fair mansions above. 
I know thou art beckoning me onward, 

To be with the Lord evermore. 
The angels will bear me to heaven 

When life's stormy journey is o'er. 

When my soul is burdened with sorrows 

And my heart seems breaking with pain. 
My dear angel mother draws near me. 

And then I am happy again. 
Where the walls are of pearl and of jasper. 

There doth my dear mother abide. 
I am longing, yes, longing to meet her, 

To dwell evermore by her side. 



1 38 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Some day our Saviour dear will call, 

All robed in garments white; 
He'll gather His loved ones in his arms 

To dwell in heavenly light. 
He'll bear us to the great white throne 

And his blessings there unfold. 
We'll visit the heavenly lands so fair, 

Beyond the gates of gold. 

We'll see our loved ones gone before, 

And there, through endless day. 
We'll play sweet anthems on golden harps 

And sing each heavenly lay. 
The angels all will gather 'round. 

We'll learn the message old ; 
How Jesus lived ere to earth He came. 

Beyond the gates of gold. 



Chorus 



Oh, yes, 'tis sweet, while here we dwell 

To learn of Jesus' love; 
How he's prepared a place for us 

Of peace and joy above. 
We'll sing His praises while we may. 

His love shall ever be told ; 
Some day he'll bear us far above, 

Beyond the gates of gold. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



189 



Wii (^mh^ Qll}H Sag Ig Sag. 

Last night, as I was kneeling 

In deep and silent prayer, 
There came to me a message 

From an angel bright and fair; 
I lent an ear to listen, 

To hear what he might say ; 
These words he softly whispered, 

" I'll guide thee day by day." 

I laid my wearied form to rest 

Upon my snow-white bed; 
I fell asleep, in sweet repose. 

With angels o'er my head. 
I dreamed my soul departed 

For lands of endless day; 
And then, as I awakened, 

I heard the angel say : 



Chorus : 



" I'll guide thee day by day ; 

No harm shall thee befall 
If thou wilt daily listen 

Unto the Saviour's call. 
I'll shield thee from all sorrow, 

I'll help thee o'er the tide. 
And when you cross the river, 

In heaven you will abide. 



190 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



f ou Must lattb for t\]t Jlag. 

One summer day I met a maid 

With radiant, golden hair; 
Her eyes were blue, of heavenly hue, 

And she was young and fair. 
I courted her and won her heart, 

And we were soon to wed. 
Alas ! the cruel war broke out 

And she unto me said — 

Chorus : 

I kissed her on that summer morn 

And bade her not to weep ; 
For I would soon return again 

And claim my dear to keep ; 
Alas ! when I returned from war 

My fair-haired love was dead ; 
And ever since our parting days 

I hear the words she said — 

You must battle for the flag, 

Although 'tis sad to part ; 
But rU be true, my darling Jack, 

And none shall claim my heart. 
So kiss your sweetheart ere you go, 

And I to God will pray 
That He may grant you courage strong 

To battle in the fray. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. ' jgj 



tn tot M^tt (§«r IbBB^li i£avh. 

When time's river ceases flowing, 

Changed into the tideless sea, 
And our feet have touched the waters 

That are called eternity, 
There we'll sing with saints in glory 

And we'll join, in one accord ; 
Oh ! we all will be so happy 

When we meet our blessed Lord. 

We will sing the sweetest anthems 

And we'll play on harps of gold. 
While the angels round us gather, 

Their sweet blessings to unfold. 
And we'll shout with glad hosannas 

When our loved ones there we greet ; 
All our sorrows will be over 

When our blessed Lord we meet. 

When we meet our blessed Saviour, 

In the lands so bright and fair. 
We will sing with saints forever, 

And their glories we will share. 
Oh ! we'll praise our dear Redeemer, 

As we gather round the throne ; 
Yes, we'll praise His name forever. 

When the Lord shall claim His own. 



192 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



When the autumn twihght gathers, 

In the falhng of the year, 
Sings the lonely whippoorwill, 

In the woodlands far and near. 
How he thrills your heart with sadness, 

Bringing back the happy past. 
And a shadow o'er the future, 

While the autumn twiliarhts last. 

'Neath your peaceful bedroom window 

Sits he, near the window sill. 
Singing you the same sad story, — 

" Whippoorwill, whippoorwill." 
In your fancy, while he's singing, 

You can see the loved one sfone, 
And it fills your heart with sorrow 

As he still goes singing on. 

Chorus : 

" Whippoorwill, whippoorwill, whippoorwill," 

O'er the hills and dales, 
'Tis a song both sad and lonely. 

That the whippoorwill bewails. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



193 



If Kxnh tn Mut^tx Mtjnt ¥m (Bam, 

Come, sit beside me, darling sister, 

I have something I must say : 
When I pass from earth, forever, 

Promise me that you will pray. 
For I want to see you, sister, 

With the angels near the throne; 
And another promise, sister, — 

Be kind to mother when I'm gone. 

Raise the curtains higher, sister, 

For the light is growing dim ; 
Take the book from off the mantel. 

Sing to me my favorite hymn. 
I can hear the Saviour calling, 

For He wants me to come home ; 
Good bye, sister, I am dying, — 

Be kind to mother when I'm gone. 

Chorus : 

Be kind to mother when I'm gone. 

For she's worn with toil and care; 
She will need your help and comfort, 

Kneel with her in daily prayer. 
Let no harm or ill befall her. 

Keep the cares from off her brow, — 
Come and kiss me, darling sister. 

For I see the angels now. 



13 



194 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



On a lovely night in summer, 

In the month of lovely June, 
I was seated in an arbor, 

Gazing at the peaceful moon. 
All around were fragrant roses, 

Wafting perfumes on the air ; 
There I sat in blissful silence, 

Trying to forget all care. 

While I sat there, sweetly dreaming. 

In the arbor all alone, 
I could hear a maiden singing 

In the sweetest, softest tones. 
'Twas a ballad of a lover 

Who had left his sweetheart fair, 
And it touched my heart with sorrow, 

Recalling nights when I was there. 

Chorus : 

Oh that night in lovely summer! 

Oh to be there once again ! 
Just to hear the maiden singing 

That pathetic, sweet refrain. 
Just to linger in the arbor, 

Gazing at the peaceful moon, 
With the roses all around me, 

As I did that night in June. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



195 



There's an old battered house 

Standing back from the town, 
Where once dwelt a maiden 

With eyes large and brown. 
She sat by the window 

On bright summer days, 
While the birds gathered near 

To sing their sweet lays. 

The old house now is silent, 

All the loved ones have gone, 
But the birds often gather, 

On each bright summer morn. 
Ofttimes in midsummer 

To this house have I strayed. 
Just to hear the birds sing 

As they sang to tlie maid. 

Chorus : 

By the old house I love to linger. 

When the summer days are clear, 
Just to hear the robins singing 

In the maples standing near. 
For I fancy, as I'm dreaming. 

In the pleasant summer shade, 
I am lingering with the maiden, 

Where in youth we often strayed. 



196 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



There's an old weeping willow 

That stands near the mill, 
Where in youth I oft lingered 

On morns calm and still ; 
While the birds gathered daily, 

To sing their sweet song 
As the dear little brooklet 

Went murmuring along. 

'Neath the old weeping willow 

With brother I played ; 
In the old village churchyard 

He was tenderly laid. 
But at times, in my fancy, 

As I sit by the stream, 
I can hear the mill running. 

As in youth's happy dream. 

Chorus : 

Where the stream flows by the mill, 

I lingered there for hours. 
Listening to the robins singing 

In the dear old willow bowers. 
Now the mill is fast decaying. 

All around is calm and still ; 
Oh ! those happy days of childhood. 

Where the stream flows bv the mill. 



POETIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 



197 



Norn mg fl^art ta 0ab atth ICon^lg. 

I remember the time that we parted, 

'Twas a beautiful morning in May ; 
The tears from my eyes came streaming, 

So sad was my heart on that day. 
I loved her with purest affections, 

She seemed my soul and my life ; 
Long I had dreamed of the future, 

Planning to make her my wife. 

In my dreams I often see her, 

Smiling sweetly as of yore ; 
Again I clasp her to my bosom, 

Kissing her sweet lips once more. 
But, alas ! 'tis all a fancy. 

She to me can ne'er return ; 
Fate thus robbed me of my darling. 

Yet I e'er for her will yearn. 

Chorus : 

Now my heart is sad and lonely, 

Life to me seems all in vain ; 
Ne'er will she return to love me. 

Ne'er to kiss my lips again. 
For another hand has claimed her. 

Taken her to be his own ; 
Yet some time beyond the river 

I may meet her near the throne. 



198 



POETIC A L INSPIRA TIONS. 



In a far ancient city at twilight 

I stood near a cathedral grand. 
The choir within was singing 

A song of sweet promised land. 
My soul was touched with emotion, 

The heralding angels seemed near, 
In a dream I was nearing the heavens, 

And a message of welcome could hear. 

As I neared the heavenly portals 

The angels sang sweet in accord ; 
I was greeted by saints and the Father, 

And the mother of our blessed Lord. 
The organ soon ceased its pealing 

The anthem so sweet and sublime; 
'Twas a grand revelation of heaven, 

And the land of our Saviour divine. 

Chorus : 

" See, the angels now are nearing," 

Softly sang the vesper choir ; 
" Praises be to God our Father, 

For He ruleth everywhere. 
Lift your voice in loud hosannas 

O'er the land and o'er the sea ; 
God our Father reigneth ever, 

Through the vast eternitv." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



199 



They were seated in the moonHght, 

'Neath a grand old maple tree; 
He was planning for a journey, 

She was weeping bitterly. 
" It will pain my heart to leave you, 

For I love you, darling Rose ; 
But there are treasures I am seeking. 

Where the peaceful river flows." 

There's a country 'cross the waters 

Where a dark-eyed lover sleeps. 
While a broken-hearted maiden 

In her lonely cottage weeps. 
He was taken with a fever, 

Caused by rains and falling snows ; 
So his comrades gently laid him 

Where the peaceful river flows. 

Chorus : 

Where the peaceful river flows 

Sleeps a lover all alone, 
While his sweetheart weeps in sorrow 

In her little cottage home. 
There's a land beyond this river 

Where they both will meet again ; 
There will be no deaths or fevers. 

Caused by snow and falling rain. 



200 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



M % IrauttM Monti} of Mag. 

I was strolling, in the evening, 

When I met a damsel fair ; 
She to me seemed sad and lonely, 

And her face was full of care. 
So I ventured to address her, 

In a pleasant, quiet way, — ■ 
Thus it was I met my darling 

In the beautiful month of May. 

Soon we learned to love each other, 

With the love of olden time. 
And as years went rolling onward 

Life seemed like a dream sublime. 
But, alas ! fate had decreed it 

That my love must go away ; 
So we parted one fine morning 

In the beautiful month of May. 

Chorus : 

In the beautiful month of May, 

When the moon was shining bright, 
It was then I met my darling 

On a calm and heavenly night. 
Now I fancy I can see her, 

As the first time we met, 
And though now I'm parted from her, 

Yet that night I'll never forget. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



20I 



The twilight shades are falhng, 

'Tis now the vesper hour ; 
The bells are sweetly chiming 

From each cathedral tower. 
The evening lamps are lighted, 

And slowly fades the day. 
The pious people gather 

At vesper hour to pray. 

The priest draws near the altar 

And toward his people turns ; 
The candles all are lighted, 

The holy incense burns. 
The people bow to worship 

Their God and Saviour dear, 
The holy Virgin Mary, 

Who unto them draws near. 

Chorus : 

Chime on, chime on, sweet vesper bells, 

Harmonious are your tones ; 
Chime on, chime on, O evening bells, 

A message of heavenly zones. 
Chime on, chime on, at eventide. 

From every belfry tower ; 
Chime on, chime on, forever more, 

'Tis now the vesper liour. 



202 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



'Neath an arch of cHmbing roses 

Stands a young and blushing girl ; 
Close beside her bends her lover, 

Calling her his " darling Pearl." 
" I am going, on the morrow, 

To sail the wild and rolling sea, 
And I want you. Pearl, to promise 

You'll be faithful, dear, to me." 

From across the rolling ocean 

Comes a vessel and its crew. 
But there's one less number with them, 

He sleeps beneath the waters blue. 
And a maiden now is standing 

By the sad and rolling sea; 
And the waves bring back the message, 

"You'll be faithful, dear, to me." 

Chorus : 

Promise me that you'll be faithful 

Till I return from o'er the sea ; 
For I'm going on the morrow. 

But I'll soon return to thee. 
There's a land across the waters. 

Where I go in search of gold ; 
We will need it, darling sweetheart, 

To maintain us when we're old. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. JO^ 



Far away in dear old Venice, 

Where the waters ebb and flow, 
On a peaceful moonlight evening 

I was sailing, years ago. 
As I gazed out on the waters 

A gondola I espied ; 
In it sat a dark-eyed lover, 

With his sweetheart by his side. 

She was playing on a zither. 

While he sang a ballad old, 
Thrilling me with deep emotion, 

As his tale of love he told. 
Long I sat there, sweetly dreaming. 

Gazing out upon the tide, 
Till I fancied I was sailing 

With my sweetheart by my side. 

Chorus : 

Oft I've longed to be in Venice, 

Living o'er that night again. 
Listening to the lover singing 

That pathetic, sweet refrain. 
And to watch the peaceful waters, 

As they gently ebb and flow. 
Far away in dear old Venice, 

Where I sailed long years ago. 



204 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



One night in early autumn, 

When the world seemed all at rest, 
The angels came from heaven 

To claim her we loved best. 
They bore her to the portals, 

Where friends awaited there; 
She's gone to dwell forever 

Upon the golden stairs. 

At times, when all is silent, 

It seems that she is near ; 
I fancy I can see her, 

And it brings a lonely tear. 
We miss our darling Tessie 

When 'tis time for evening prayers, 
But know that she is happy 

Upon the golden stairs. 

Chorus : 

Upon the golden stairs. 

Awaits the one we love; 
We will meet her up in heaven 

When we're gathered up above. 
She left us in the autumn, 

Ne'er to return to earth again ; 
Though we miss our darling Tessie, 

She is through with care and pain. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



205 



One stormy night in winter 

An old man sat alone ; 
All within was still and silent, — 

His many loved ones all had flown. 
A vacant chair stood near the fireplace, 

Where once sat his loving bride, 
" She has gone," moaned he in sorrow, 

Then these words he lowly sighed : 

Chorus : 

I am lonely, oh ! so lonely. 

Naught to cheer me here below ; 
Years ago my dear old sweetheart 

Passed away, as fell the snow. 
I'm so lonely since she left me ! 

Soon I'll meet her o'er the way ; 
For my form is worn and weary 

And my locks are thin and gray. 

Wild the wintry winds were howling, 

Stormy was the night outside ; 
Though the fire was burning brightly, 

Cheerless seemed this fireside. 
" Take me home, for I am lonely. 

Take me to her," sighed he low. 
Then he passed away forever, 

Far beyond the winter's snow. 



2o6 poetical inspirations. 

Chorus : 

He was lonely, oh ! so lonely, 

Naught to cheer him on the way ; 
Years ago his faithful sweetheart 

Left him here alone to stay. 
He was lonely, oh ! so lonely. 

Naught to cheer his aged life ; 
So he crossed the peaceful river, 

Where he met his angel wife. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



207 



Low the solemn bells are ringing, 

Pealing out in mournful tones. 
One we love has just been martyred, 

Every nation sadly mourns. 
Every heart is touched with sorrow; 

We will miss his friendly hand, 
He has gone from us forever, 

We will miss him from the land. 

Chorus : 

Tolling, tolling, lowly tolling. 

Hear each mournful ringing bell. 
Ringing, ringing, slowly ringing. 

For our martyred one that fell. 
Weeping, weeping, sadly weeping, 

O'er that form, so cold and still. 
Teach us, Father, resignation 

And submission to Thy will. 

Bowed in sorrow is the nation, 

All the land is draped in black. 
Gone before us has our hero, 

Ne'er to earth will he come back. 
He was meek and tender-hearted ; 

Now his life work here is through, 
Now he dwells with saints in glory. 

Far bevond the ether blue. 



208 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



?aH? lug Hii Jlotoers. 

A little child stood at the gate 

Of a mansion large and fair. 
" Oh, won't you buy my pretty flowers ? " 

She said to the mistress there. 
" My mamma dear is very ill 

And papa dear is dead, 
So, please to buy my pretty flowers ; " 

And then these words she said: 

The story touched the woman's heart ; 

She bought the flowers fair, 
And bade her not to weep again, 

That she for both would care. 
" I've gold enough for those at home. 

And I your rent will pay. 
I'll give you all you need, my child ; " 

So no more we hear her say, — 

Chorus : 

" Please buy my flowers, I ask again, 

Please buy my flowers today. 
For there is food that we must haVe, 

And there is rent to pay. 
My papa dear was killed in war. 

And left us sore distressed ; 
Oh! please to buy my pretty flowers, 

You surely will be blessed." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 2OQ 



Far beyond this world of sorrow, 

Where the heavenly flowers bloom, 
Birds of paradise are singing, 

Life is like the dreamy June. 
There's a land for weary mortals, 

When they're through with earthly care ; 
And the angels draw me nearer. 

When I kneel in evening prayer. 

Oft when dreaming in the gloaming, 

When the lights are burning dim, 
I can hear the angels singing 

Some old sweet and sacred hymn. 
Then my soul forgets all sorrow. 

And I lay aside all care, 
For I know that God is with me 

When I kneel in evening prayer. 

Chorus : 

When I kneel in evening prayer 

Many angels gather near. 
And the Holy Spirit whispers, 

" ril be with thee, do not fear. 
Jesus Christ is your Redeemer 

And your everlasting friend ; 
Bear life's burdens bravely, brother, 

A crown awaits vou in the end." 



14 



210 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



The vail will soon be rent asunder, 

We shall hear the trumpet call ; 
It will then be Judgment Morning ; 

Every star and sphere will fall. 
We will see our Lord descending, 

All the graves will open wide ; 
There'll be weeping of the sinners, 

They will seek some place to hide. 

Christ will then proclaim His loved ones, 

He will gather all His sheep ; 
Every lost one will be wailing. 

Every sinner then will weep. 
There's a chance now for repentance, 

So awaken from your dreams ; 
If you seek forgiveness, brothers, 

You'll embark on heavenly streams. 

Chorus : 

It will soon be Judgment Morning, 

So awaken from your dreams ; 
Seek the Saviour, now, in earnest ; 

Life is more than what it seems. 
Hasten now and seek forgiveness, 

Ere you hear the trumpet call. 
I warn you now to be forgiven 

Ere the stars and planets fall. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. gH 



The wintry winds are madly howling, 

And the night is dark and cold. 
In a cottage by the seaside 

Sits a mother, bent and old. 
Gazing out across the waters, 

As the waves dash high and wild ; 
For she knows that 'neath the billows 

Sleeps her only darling child. 

The lights within are burning brightly, 

An'd the night grows wilder still 
As the mother weeps in sorrow. 

Longing to be with her Will. 
'Twas a night in dreary winter, 

When the winds were howling wild, 
That a vessel sank at midnight 

In which sailed her darling child. 

Chorus : 

He is sleeping 'neath the billows, 

Sleeping with the perished crew ; 
Waiting till the Judgment Morning, 

Then to dwell above the blue. 
Sank the vessel just at midnight, 

As they'd nearly reached the shore. 
Loved ones now are sadly weeping 

For their loved ones gone before. 



212 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



I was roaming by the river. 

In a distant foreign land ; 
Yonder, from the old church belfry, 

Came the sweetest silvery chime. 
Softly stole the evening shadows 

'Long the peaceful, silent stream ; 
There I stood, amazed and raptured, 

In a blissful, happy dream. 

Long I stood there, in the moonlight. 

Charmed by stream and chiming bells, 
And I longed to linger ever 

In this sweet and dreaming spell. 
For I seemed to be in heaven. 

By the everlasting stream. 
With the angels gathered round me ; — 

But, alas, 'twas but a dream! 

Chorus : 

'Twas a dream I'll long remember, 

'Twas a dream both sweet and fair ; 
For my soul was so enraptured 

I forgot the world of care. 
Oft I've fancied, in my dreaming, 

I was standing there again. 
By the river, in the moonlight, 

Far away in sunny Spain. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



213 



A sweet little butterfly lassie, 

With eyes like violets blue, 
Smiles so coquettish and charming, 

Happy the whole day through. 
Only sixteen last summer. 

Such is my sweetheart, Irene ; 
Just a sweet little bud of innocence. 

The fairest that ever was seen. 

None can compare with my darling, 

None have such long, golden hair ; 
She is the sweetest of sweethearts. 

She is the fairest of fair. 
Some day I'll wed my young fairy. 

My darling, my sweetheart, Irene. 
All should forgive her coquetry, 

For she is only sixteen. 

Chorus : 

My sweetheart, Irene, my sweetheart, Irene, 
My beautiful fairy, my beautiful queen; 

My sweetheart, Irene, my sweetheart, Irene, 
Thou art the one I love best. 

Tell me you love me, say it sincerely, 
I do not wish thee to jest. 



21^ POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Bl\t tB doming to (Butt i^? Aiiaiu. 

At night, when twiHght is fading, 

And shadows steal over the deep, 
I stand by the sea. in my sorrow, 

And long 'neath the billows to sleep. 
For the past comes ever before me, 

And fills my soul with deep pain ; 
I see, in my dreaming, a maiden, — 

She is coming to greet me again. 

In the distance I see a fair cottage. 

Where once dwelt the joy of my heart. 
Her spirit now greets me at twilight. 

For Death could not tear us apart ; 
And thus while on earth I may linger. 

Though my soul is filled with deep pain, 
By the seashore Fll wander at evening, 

Just to greet my young sweetheart again. 

Chorus : 

She is coming to greet me again, 

Her spirit floats over the sea ; 
I stand here when twilight is fading, 

She whispers this message to me : 
" I love thee as ever, my darling, 

And faithful I ever will be ; 
We will be sweethearts forever, 

On the shores of the tideless sea." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 215 



Ah ! what is Hfe ? But an empty dream, 

For we are naught but clay, 
And, though it may seem long to you, 

'Tis really but a day. 
The weary hours will quickly speed 

Upon the wings of time, 
And then our souls will be at rest 

In the home where all is sublime. 

We struggle hard on life's great shore 

To make for us a name, 
But is it really worth the while 

To work for wealth and fame? 
If we were here forever 

Upon the shores of earth, 
Why, we might struggle hopefully, 

And make this life of worth. 

But, as we're drifting onward 

Our wearied forms grow old. 
And our souls are daily longing 

To be on the streets of gold. 
So, weary soul, be not dismayed, 

For we are naught but clay ; 
Tomorrow is eternity, 

And we soon will pass away. 



2l6 



POETICAL INSPlRAriONS. 



Cruel, cruel were the thorns 

That crowned our Saviour's brow. 
But had he not died upon the tree 

There'd be no redemption now. 
His nailed, pierced feet. His wounded hands, 

His cry, His dying groan 
Plead still for us, in heaven, today, 

Before the great White Throne. 

Oh were we worthy of the cross 

That Jesus bore for us ! 
Why did He suffer such cruel pains? 

'Twas all for love of us. 
O mortal man, why don't you live 

As Jesus wants you to? 
For how He suffered God doth know. 

But neither I nor you. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 217 



Two majestic pines stand towering 

Far above a sparkling spring, 
While through the golden summer days 

In their boughs the songbirds sing. 
These two lofty pines have stood there, 

Near this spring, for long, long years, 
And beneath their evergreen branches 

Smiles have come, and also tears. 

Nearly every pleasant Sunday 

And on each bright holiday 
Parents sit and watch their children 

As they romp and dance and play. 
How they love the clear, cold water 

As it ripples to and fro. 
For God's Hand has well supplied it, 

And we hope 'twill always flow. 

Could these pines speak forth a language, 

What strange stories we might hear ; 
For we know that in their shadow 

Have passed days of grief and cheer. 
Many of our long-gone loved ones 

Used to roam beneath these trees, 
Now their winds sing tales of sorrow 

As they sigh at every breeze. 



2i8 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The true poet's language is beautiful, 

Musical, dreamy, and sweet. 
All nature to him is a poem. 

He is life's artist complete. 
He paints in truest of colors, 

Not with the brush but with pen ; 
The world is a book that he studies ; 

He's the noblest and deepest of men. 

He is not to be thwarted by jeering, — 

Criticism only inspires ; 
He writes while others are sleeping. 

Or dreaming beside their fires. 
He writes from divine inspirations. 

From the soul and not from the mind ; 
He is never guided by mortals. 

But the Creator of all mankind. 

He loves the little wild creatures. 

The insect, the bird, and the beast; 
He loves the innocent children. 

Even those considered the least. 
A friend to the forsaken and fallen ; 

A companion, a brother, a friend. 
His paintings are truly inspiring. 

And nigh unto perfection they blend. 

Thus do I sing of the poet, 

A man among men, you will find. 
He sees as no other man living, — 

Naught is there hid from his mind. 
Thus do I sing of the poet; 

The dreamer who ever will dream. 
When his life on this earth is over. 

Will embark on the immortal stream. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

In the summer house I dream today, 

As our God smiles on the lake, — 
Smiles in gentle, flowing ripples, 

As the wavelets toss and break. 
Praises be unto the Father, 

For these scenes reveal His love ; 
Thou art pictured all around me. 

Pictured in the skies above. 

Every bird reveals Thy presence 

And the sweetness of Thy voice; 
And the rippling, dancing wavelets 

With all nature now rejoice. 
Yonder slopes the slumbering hillside, 

Dressed in pines of every green, 
Painted dark and painted dainty — 

What a picture ! what a scene ! 

Far away are fleecy cloudlets. 

Capped upon the mountain brow ; 
Blue and gray they blend together. 

Resting on God's bosom now. 
Sweeping steeps amid the heavens, 

Fading as you longer view. 
Lovers are these clouds and mountains, 

Asleep within the peaceful blue. 

Other dreams reveal Thy presence, 

While the breezes soothe my breast ; 
Little creatures now are playing 

O'er the warm earth's piney crest. 
Slender ferns and varied grasses 

Meet and kiss beside the lake ; 
In the distance comes the steamer, 

From mv dreams I now awake. 



219 



220 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Wur (Suarhimt Angels. 

I hear the footsteps of angels : 

Softly they tread o'er the lands, 
Fleetly they journey through spaces, 

Soft as the touch of their hands. 
Sweet is the message they carry, 

A message of God's perfect love. 
They rock us to sleep in the evening, 

Singing anthems of heaven above. 

They teach us to love one another. 

To be honest and thoughtful in deed. 
They tell us to go clothe the naked, 

And God's hungry children to feed ; 
To be careful, wherever we journey, 

To be guided by God's Holy Word, 
To keep ourselves from impurity. 

And to help all of those that have erred. 

They tell us to forgive one another 

If we have caused each other a pain ; 
Let us not be living in anger, — 

To be friends with each other again. 
They teach us that love is God's wisdom, 

That love should be scattered each day. 
Love Cometh only from heaven. 

In loving we shall our dear Saviour obey. 

O beautiful angels of heaven. 

How sweet is your presence each day! 
God said ye should watch o'er His children; 

O hear us, whenever we pray! 
O beautiful angels of heaven, 

Keep us from doing the wrong; 
We are like weak little children ; 

Thus we long to be joined with thy throng. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



221 



Only a cup of snow, 

Gathered from o'er the way, 
CrystalHzed gems from heaven, 

That fell one wintry day, — 
A casket of fairy jewels, 

That with me would not stay. 
Only a cup of snow, 

That too soon did melt away. 

Only a cup of snow 

That fell from wintry skies ; 
Composed of whitest flakes, 

Of every description and size. 
Only a cup of snow, — 

I would that they might stay ! 
Alas ! one touch of Father Time 

And they soon did pass away. 



222 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Mjj ^attitr!i Motion. 

O mother mine, thou art fairer, far, 

Than any mortal ever given. 
Thy love for thine, my precious one, 

Is holy, like the love of heaven. 
With tenderest care thou reared thine own, 

Through constant illness, strife, and pain ; 
Though wearied, anxious thou might'st be. 

Yet not for once didst thou complain. 

What hast thou not done for thine own, 

Thy care, thy love, thine all in all? 
And thou hast given thine own health, 

That cares like thine might ne'er befall. 
We have not prized thee as we should, 

O precious, sainted mother mine ; 
But God will care for thee, dear heart. 

And peace shall ever now be thine. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The bride is in her chamber, 

Gazing at the peaceful moon. 
She is waiting for the carriage, 

For the groom is coming soon. 
The grand old house is lighted. 

In the parlors down below ; 
Soon the blushing bride will enter. 

Dressed in robes as white as snow. 

She comes tripping down the staircase, 

With blush roses in her hair. 
See, the carriage it is coming. 

And the groom will soon be there. 
How proud the handsome groom will feel 

With his lovely, charming wife; 
And may heaven's richest blessing 

Rest upon them all their life. 

The organ now is pealing forth 

A joyous wedding tune, 
While the bridesmaid and the best man 

Are escorting bride and groom. 
" Will you take this youthful maiden," 

I hear the parson say, 
" And promise you'll protect her 

While here on earth you stay ? " 

The wedding now is over. 

And the guests are leaving soon ; 
For the bride and groom are ready 

For their happy honeymoon. 
May their life be one of sunshine, 

And no clouds of sorrow come, 
And may Cupid now prepare for them 

A bright and cheerful home. 



223 



224 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Wintn. 

Why are the wild winds sighing 

On the far-off, dreary hills? 
'Tis because the year is dying, 

And we feel the wintry chills. 
December now is with us, 

And the snow is falling fast. 
And before another morning 

We will know the autumn's past. 

The snow is madly drifting, — 

And such queer, mysterious flakes ! 
The wintry winds are howling 

O'er the vales and o'er the lakes. 
How gladly tired mortals 

Will gather round the hearth. 
Popping corn and telling stories. 

Some of sorrow, some of mirth. 

Now the winter it is with us ; 

Each boy will hustle out his sled. 
Gliding over hill and valley. 

For young hearts they never dread. 
Young lovers and their sweethearts 

Will go spinning in their sleighs; 
So you see that even winter 

Has its bright and cheerful days. 

Soon old March lion will be roaring, 

And the winter will be gone ; 
For the winter cannot linger 

With the bright days coming on. 
The spring will soon return again, 

To fill our hearts with cheer ; 
Then no more we'll talk of winter. 

With its davs so cold and drear. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 22? 



(Nozu in Heaven.) 

There's a fair-haired Httle lassie 

Who, I know, is my true friend. 
I beheve, in mirth or sorrow, 

On her I could depend. 
She's not so shallow-minded 

As to only care for style; 
She is in every sense a lady. 

With a sweet, angelic smile. 

If on life's stormy ocean 

I should drift astray. 
She'd to me be ever loyal. 

For aught the world might say. 
May God befriend her ever. 

And abide with her all time. 
May angels guard her slumbers. 

And grant her peace sublime. 



15 



226 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Be not thou proud, O mortal man, 

If you have wealth or fame, 
For time will crumble you to dust. 

And the world soon forget your name. 
For mighty kings and warriors brave, 

Who were famed and world-renowned, 
Were blotted out of memory's book 

When buried in the ground. 

The blood that flowed from martyr's veins, 

To free the countless slaves, 
Was only treasured by the friends 

That placed them in their graves. 
The world may sing your praises loud, 

O'er the land and rolling sea; 
But ere another sun has set. 

You may be swept to eternity. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



227 



They are two bright Httle fellows, 

These two little nephews of mine ; 
They laugh and chatter together, — 

Ah me, their sports are fine ! 
We know they are sometimes noisy 

And scatter their toys on the way; 
But how we would miss these two darlings 

If they were not with us to play. 

How quiet it seems when, at evening, 

These two little souls are at rest. 
They look the picture of innocence. 

So cosily tucked in their nest. 
O angels of heaven, watch o'er them ! 

Guard them by night and by day ; 
Teach them, while they are children. 

To always walk in thy way. 

Time will soon pass, and these darlings 

Will be through with playthings and toys ; 
And, as they grow up together, 

No more will they be little boys. 
But may they be spared to their loved ones, 

Here on this earth to live long; 
May God, in His wisdom and mercy. 

Protect them from all that is wrong. 



228 



POETICAL INSPIRATION^'. 



Oh, how we loved our father, 

With his locks of silver-gray! 
And, though the years had made him old, 

His heart was young and gay. 
His smiles were always sunny. 

And his soul never complained; 
For he trusted in his Saviour, 

For the world that He'd regained. 

One night, when all was silent, 

Our father fell asleep. 
His spirit went to dwell in the land 

That God promised to His sheep. 
We miss his dear old footsteps 

Around the evening hearth, 
But we know that he is better off. 

In that land of peace and mirth. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



229 



She was only a child in experience, 

And a maiden quite young in years, 
When a stranger came to the village 

And met this fair maiden in tears. 
Her parents had just died and left her 

In this great wicked world alone, 
And this stranger swore to protect her 

If she'd promise to be his own. 

He courted, he wooed, and won her. 

And promised that they should soon wed. 
She seemed happy again and contented, 

As she listened to words that he said. 
But this scoundrel -he never intended 

This girl to take for his wife ; 
Yet he flattered with words of no meaning, 

Till he ruined her innocent life. 

A few years speeded fast onward, 

And her spirit soon passed away. 
Where God, in His wisdom and mercy. 

Has taken her always to stay. 
But what of this scoundrel, who prospers 

While here on this earth he doth stay? 
'Tis God who must judge, not us mortals ; 

But we pity his soul on that day 
When heaven shall gather the loved ones, 

To be with the Lord evermore. 
Then alas for the demon who ruined 

This innocent girl on earth's shore! 



230 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



On the banks of a lonely river 

Sits a maiden, sad and lone ; 
She is dreaming of her lover, 

And those days long since flown. 
As the little stars look downward 

On this maid, yet young in years. 
Memories come back of her lover. 

And her eyelids fill with tears. 

They were playmates and together 

Roamed they o'er the fields to play 
But one day in death he left her, 

And his spirit passed away. 
He is sleeping in the churchyard, 

And the willows softly weep 
As they guard the place he slumbers 

In his sweet and silent sleep. 

Still she sits there, sadly dreaming, 

As the silvery moon shines down ; 
And the angels try to soothe her. 

As she dreams of lands unknown. 
" May I soon be with my lover," 

Is her spirit's bitter moan ; 
" For no more will we be parted, 

When we meet beside the throne." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 2^1 

Autumtt. 

The autumn leaves are falling, 

The summer days have flown, 
And the year is swiftly passing 

Into the Great Unknown. 
Oh, how we miss the summer, 

Yet we cannot it recall ; 
And the birds are flying southward 

Ere the leaves begin to fall. 

The artist hand oi nature 

Has painted all the leaves, 
And the woods stand bright, in the golden light, 

With the fabric which nature weaves. 
But mother earth will soon be robbed 

Of her carpet, bright and green ; 
Then all the world looks bleak and bare, 

As far as can be seen. 

How sad and dreary seems the world. 

When all the birds have flown 
To their home so warm and sunny, 

As they leave us here to mourn. 
But naught can stay old Father Time, 

For He must have His say ; 
But soon the spring will come again 

And songbirds sing their lay. 

The harvest moon is shining 

On fields of golden grain, 
And the farmer soon will gather. 

To protect it from the rain. 
The apples fast are ripening, 

'Neath autumn's shining sun. 
And the chestnut burs are falling 

Where squirrels have their fun. 



232 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

®ljF l^auntFb ilanatoiL 

They say the old mansion is haunted 

By a beautiful maiden fair ; 
That she comes to her boudoir nightly, 

To arrange her long golden hair. 
She is robing to greet her lover, 

Handsome and tall and grand ; 
She is robed and sits there waiting, — 

He's to come from a foreisrn land. 



*t3^ 



One beautiful morning in springtime 

Her lover sailed over the sea ; 
As they bade farewell to each other 

He said, " I'll ever be true to thee." 
But, alas ! cruel fate had decreed it 

That her lover should never come home, 
For the ship that set sail on that morning 

Sank deep in the billowy foam. 

This was years, years ago that this happened, 

But memories of the past still cling, 
And this beautiful maiden so lonely 

Can ne'er forget that eventful spring. 
So her spirit still lives in the mansion 

That towers on yon distant hill ; 
She comes to her boudoir nightly 

And waits for her lover there still. 

No power in this world can disturb her, 

She seems not made of clay ; 
She is robed in immortal splendor 

And has come to this mansion to stay. 
This is why she is seen there nightly, 

In this dreamy forsaken old home, — 
She is waiting with patience immortal, 

For she believes that in time he will come. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

A gallant ship is homeward bound, 

From distant foreign lands. 
Happy hearts are on the deck, 

With good-byes and waving hands. 
The azure sky looks calm and clear. 

As the ship glides o'er the foam. 
These happy hearts have long been gone 

And long to be at home. 

How calm the grand old ocean looks 
As the ship strides o'er the deep! 

But perhaps before the night has passed 
Many souls will pray and weep. 

The stars and stripes float in mid air, 
With a pride that cheers the crew ; 

While still the glorious morning sky 
Retains its heavenly blue. 

The ship is gliding swiftly on, 

The day is well begun ; 
But look — a speck of black appears, 

Which almost hides the sun. 
The captain now pulls out his glass, 

And looks up toward the skies ; 
He sees a thunder-cloud o'erhead, 

While the waves begin to rise. 

Blacker and blacker grow the skies. 

And the thunder now doth roar. 
A flash of wicked lightning strikes, 

And the rains begin to pour. 
Look ! Look ! The ship is all ablaze, — 

Where now are dreams of home? 
" Out with the life-boat ! " comes the cry, 

" Or we'll sink beneath the foam." 



233 



29A POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

The flames are raging o'er the deck, 
Thicker, blacker grows the smoke ! 
Of no avail, before the flames, 

Are ribs of steel and oak. 
The ship is sinking 'neath the foam. 

As the seas dash high and wild ; 
While the captain and his gallant crew 

Seem helpless as a child. 

The awful storm is overpast. 

But the grand old ship went down, 
And every mortal soul on board 

From scenes of life have flown, 
Alas, alas for mortal hope 

When a storm sweeps o'er the sea! 
For, though they wept and prayed and moaned, 

They were swept to eternity. 



POETICAL INSFIRAIIONS. 



235 



An iEhftttng Prag^r. 

As the stars are softly peeping 

From the azure skies above, 
And my soul in fancy fleeting 

To the home of life above, 
And the night is fast approaching, 

As the evening shadows fall, 
Gently rests the evening twilight. 

Changing, softening over all. 

Angels, give us peaceful slumber. 

As your gentle watch you keep. 
Let our Lord be with us always. 

As He promised to His sheep. 
We are weak, and heavy-laden 

With our earthly care and strife, 
And we long for more assurance 

Of a better, happier life. 



236 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah for the glorious " Fourth," 

And the year of seventy-six! 
The boys are out the night of the third, 

And playing all sorts of tricks. 
With crackers large and torpedoes too. 

And with each a hooting horn, 
The boys stay out and loudly shout. 

Until the early morn. 

They build bonfires out in the streets 

And ring the old church bell ; 
What fun they have, all through the night, 

They would not dare to tell. 
A cop is stationed on every beat. 

With canes and billies too; 
If ever there was an angry gang, 

'Tis these cops all dressed in blue. 

" The Fourth," it comes but once a year, 

So let us have some fun. 
We'll celebrate Independence Day 

With cannon and with gun. 
Our fathers fought and gave their lives 

To save our flag and home, — 
We have a right to make a noise 

For the freedom which we own. 

The " Father of his Country " died 

O'er a hundred years ago ; 
But still his memory ever lives. 

So we our freedom show. 
No country e'er can make us yield. 

Or keep us fighting long ; 
Our hearts are brave and loyal. 

And our courage great and strong. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

(ElirtHtmaa. 

Old Santa Clans is coming, 

With reindeer and with sleigh ; 
He's loading up with presents 

To give on Christmas day. 
Before the night is over 

He'll climb to chimney tops, 
And, with the basket on his back, 

Will make his usual stops. 

The children they are sleeping 

And longing for the morn ; 
Their stockings they are hanging 

Near the fireplace bright and warm 
Some hearts will be so happy. 

Other hearts will be so sad, — 
Oh, why don't dear old Santy 

Make all the children glad? 

In many of the windows 

Are hanging books and toys, 
While, gazing there intently. 

Are little girls and boys. 
Some will have no presents. 

Some even have no home; 
We pity these poor orphans 

Who o'er this wide world roam. 

Our Saviour, blessed Saviour, 

On Christmas day was born ; 
He had no home nor country. 

But still He struggled on. 
He loves the little children 

And sees their earthly plight, 
And when their days are over 

They'll dwell where all is bright. 



237 



238 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

'Twas a calm and balmy evening 

In the bonny month of May, 
That a lover and his sweetheart 

Were strolling o'er the way. 
Tomorrow he was going ' 

To battle for the right ; 
The tears were streaming down her cheeks, 

While the stars were shining bright. 

" O darling, do not weep for me, 

For to you I'll soon return ; 
So please to dry your weeping eyes. 

And for me do not yearn. 
Our country dear it needs my aid, 

But soon the war'll be past. 
And then your soldier will come back 

To claim his love, at last." 

The morning sun shone bright and clear 

As her lover bid farewell ; 
" Oh, just one little kiss, my dear," 

He said to little Nell. 
" The company is coming now, 

And I must say good-bye ; 
God bless you now, my little girl. 

Oh, please, my love, don't cry ! " 

The cruel war is over now, 

Her lover has come home. 
His little Nell no more will weep, 

For he no more will roam. 
But soon we'll hear the wedding bells, 

As to the church they start, 
For soon they'll be united 

And nevermore will part. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

'Tis sweet to know that Jesus lives 

In mansions bright above, 
That He's prepared a place for us 

Of perfect peace and love. 
He gave His life that we might dwell 

In heavenly pastures free, — 
His bleeding wounds, his dying moans, 

Were all for you and me. 

For many years he walked this earth 

And ne'er did He complain. 
Our Saviour dear, so good and pure, 

By cruel men was slain. 
Oh, why He died we know full well — 

'Twas because of Adam's fall. 
'Tis sad to think that sinful man 

Doth not obey his call. 

Now what our Saviour asks of us 

Is naught but just obey 
His Father's will, in heaven above. 

Which is to Jesus pray. 
He only wants us to be good. 

As Jesus tells us to. 
If we will only heed His word 

He'll bear us safelv through. 



239 



*&^ 



Whoe'er thou art, O sinful man, 

If you should go astray. 
Your sins your Saviour dear forgives 

If you but kneel and pray. 
'Tis just as simple as can be, 

To walk in Jesus' love ; 
And when you die you'll find you'll dwell 

In mansions bright above. 



240 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



We used to call her " grandma," 

This dear little neighbor of ours, 
But now her soul is living 

In the land of beautiful flowers. 
How we miss dear little grandma. 

With her locks of snowv white. 
For those busy feet were tripping 

O'er the house from morn till night. 

God spared her life for others, 

On this earth, for many years, 
And she shared our joys and sorrows 

With her smiles and with her tears ; 
But one day, when worn and weary, 

With her cares upon life's sea, 
Her soul took wings for heaven. 

There to dwell through eternity. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



241 



O youth, respect the aged, 

As they wander down Hfe's way ; 
Remember that you too, my youth, 

Are nothing more than clay. 
And the time is speeding onward 

When you'll be bent and old ; 
So, youth, respect the aged. 

Ere they're numbered with the fold. 

Perhaps you have a mother 

And a father, growing old. 
Whose lives will soon pass onward 

Till they reach the land of gold. 
So, youthful heart, whoe'er thou art. 

Respect your aged friend ; 
And you'll find 3-ou'll be rewarded 

When you reach your journey's end. 



16 



242 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Mysterious are the powers 

That rock the mighty deep. 
Mysterious are the creatures 

That 'neath the billows sleep ; 
Mysterious are the reptiles 

That o'er this earth do creep. 
Mysterious, although lovely, 

Are the skies far up above ; 
Mysterious, although perfect. 

Are His wisdom and His love. 

Mysterious, yes, mysterious. 

Are the powers that rule the world. 
Mysterious, and how awful, 

Are the cyclones which are hurled! 
Mysterious, yet magnificent. 

Is the sun which gives us light; 
Mysterious seems the power 

That rules the day and night. 

Mysterious, yet how perfect. 

Are the stars set in the skies ; 
Mysterious, still mysterious. 

What makes the winds to rise. 
Mysterious, still mysterious. 

We watch all nature grow ; 
Mysterious is the power 

That guides us here below. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Mysterious is the veil 

That hides us from each friend, 
Mysterious was the beginning, 

Mysterious seems the end. 
Mysterious now seems all in all. 

But with gladness and surprise 
The dawn of fuller knowledge 

Will break upon our eyes. 



243 



^.. POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

244 

There's a vacant chair in our homestead, 

There's a cane that hangs on the wall, 
There's the old brown suit in the closet ; — 

These things are dear to us all, 
For they bring back the days of our father. 

Who was with us not long ago ; 
He sat in this chair when, at evening. 

The lights were burning aglow. 

This cane is an emblem of father's. 

He carried for many long years. 
It brings back the vision of a dear one. 

It fills our eyelids with tears. 
He could not have walked without it, 

For his form with age was bent ; 
We will always prize this trusty staff. 

On which his dear form leant. 

This old rocking chair which was father's 

Stands still now, lonely and sad. 
And we think, — could it hear his step again 

Would it not rejoice and be glad? 
You dear old brown suit, how we love you, 

For you wrapped up our father so warm, 
You shielded him all through the winter. 

You kept out the cold and the storm. 

To you who all have a father, — 

Keep the tokens of him you love. 
They will grow in worth to you, ever. 

Till you join him in mansions above. 
You may not think now much about it. 

But I know that you will some near day ; 
I feel you will keep them forever. 

When his spirit has passed o'er the way. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 245 

We thank Thee, heavenly Father, 

For the " Mayflower " that sailed o'er ; 
We thank Thee now, dear Father, 

For the feast we sit before. 
We thank Thee for the pilgrims brave. 

That left their native shore 
To come and settle on these lands ; 

We praise Thee ever more. 

We thank Thee for Thanksgiving day. 

That Thou dost guard thine own. 
We know that Thou art looking down 

From the place where is Thy throne. 
Thou art the One who gave us 

These blessings here today ; 
For this blessed feast we thank thee. 

As we gather round to pray. 

Of all the gifts that Thou hast given 

To Thy children, here on earth. 
The most precious gift Thou gavest 

Was Thy Son of heavenly birth. 
His was the last surrender, 

His were the strife and pain, 
But ours the life eternal 

And ours the joy and gain. 

When our thanksgivings are over. 

And we ^gather round no more, 
We hope to dwell with angels 

In heaven, forevermore. 
But prepare us here, dear Father, 

For Thy fair home above. 
And we'll try to thank Thee daily 

For the riches of Thy love. 



246 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Close her eyelids gently, 

For her life will soon be past; 
Fold her cold hands tenderly, 

For her breath is fleeting fast. 
Grim death now hovers over. 

To claim her for his own, 
But angel forms are nearing 

And will bear her to the throne. 

How sweet the smile upon her lips ! 

How white her marble brow ! 
How peaceful seems her farev/ell sleep 

As we look upon her now ! 
No more we'll hear her footsteps. 

No more we'll hear her voice, 
But when the angels welcomed her 

They raised a shout — "rejoice!" 

She used to romp with brother, 

She used to laugh and play. 
How much we'll miss our darling, 

How long will seem the day. 
Her cradle now is vacant. 

Her little chair is still ; 
We did not want to spare her. 

But 'twas the Father's will. 

Her little shoes are sitting 

Upon the mantel shelf; 
Her little clothes are hanging 

Where she put them her little self. 
They never shall be taken, 

Where placed by little hands ; 
We'll keep them, oh, forever, 

Till we've joined the angel bands. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 247 

No more she'll kneel with brother 

To say her evening prayer, 
But we trust to God in heaven 

To meet our darling there. 
She taught us all a lesson, 

With her little heart so pure; 
We know she dwells with Jesus, 

And will live forevermore. 



248 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



©nliag. 



Today — what has today brought forth ? 

Many souls have passed away, 
Many tears have flowed, many smiles have come, 

And these, today, today. 

What is today? A rising of the sun, 

A setting of each ray, 
A toil of a few hours, — 

This makes the day, today. 

What has been done today? 

Our ships have sailed, our wheels have turned, 
The beasts have eaten prey, — 

This has been done 
Today, today. 

The kings have ruled the lands 

O'er the seas across the way; 
Many children have been born 

Today, today. 

A heart is crushed by a lover false, 

A heart once light and gay ; 
Her life will know no bliss 

After today, today. 

A tap by death at some sick one's door, 

By a hand not made of clay; 
And this occurred, all o'er the world, 

Today, today. 

Time flies like shadows of the night ; 

We too will pass away ; 
Now is the morn, soon fades the light, 

Then ends the day, today. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



249 



Sweet Kitty and fair Lenna 

Are sweet flowers to behold ; 
Kitty's locks are evening shadows, 

Lenna's like the brightest gold. 
Both are two unblemished flowers, 

Pure as angels from above. 
Cupid whispers while I'm musing, 

" Which proclaims your truest love ? 

" Love," I answer, in my musing, 

" This I cannot answer thee. 
Kitty is my faithful sister, 

Lenna's heart is dear to me. 
Kitty is a fragile lily, 

That in my garden ever grows ; 
Lenna, thou art not a blossom, — 

Just my little budding rose." 



J) 



250 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Mvi fCittlf Jatry 3E?nt. 

In a modern western homestead, 

Where the fragrant flowers bloom, 
And the air is always scented 

With their dainty sweet perfume, 
Lives the fairest of all flowers 

That you ever will discern ; 
She's a queen among the roses. 

She's my little fairy Fern. 

As the sunlight greets the morning 

In that fair devoted home, 
Perfumes from the rarest roses 

Float with softness to her room. 
Then she wakens from her slumbers, 

And the fairies all discern 
That no flower amid the woodlands 

Is as fair as little Fern. 

When the dreamy haze of evening 

Falls in shadows o'er the land, 
Then she runs to greet her papa 

With a rosebud in her hand ; 
Then he folds her to his bosom, 

With a love that's never stern. 
Prints a kiss upon the forehead 

Of his little darling Fern. 

In my dreaming I have seen her, 

As she stands amid the flowers, 
With her dimpled hand uplifted, 

Longing for the summer showers. 
She is praying to the angels. 

And they answer in return, — 
" We will water all the flowers 

For our little angel Fern." 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Oft in visions I have seen her, 

Where the fairies' feet have trod, 
With the birdies gathered round her, 

Singing praises unto God. 
And the holy angels whisper, 

As she tarries by the urn, — 
" God hath made these little creatures 

Just to please His little Fern." 

There's a question I would ask her, — 

Will she ever be my bride? 
She is yet a little maiden. 

But the years will quickly glide, 
I am waiting for an answer. 

And will gladly wait the time ; 
I will praise her in my verses, 

Life shall be a dream sublime. 

She's my little Kansas blossom, 

She is fairer than a dream. 
Music ripples in her laughter 

Like the music of a stream. 
And methinks when I am musing, 

At the twilight's gentle close, 
I am seated in the arbor 

With my little Kansas rose. 



251 



252 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

In the Susquehanna valley, 

Where the faintest zephyrs blow, 
And the sunbeams kiss the waters 

At the morning's golden glow, 
There reside two dainty maidens 

Who will soon be blushing brides, 
For my friend and I will claim them 

Ere another autumn glides. 

Oft methinks I view an island 

Where fair Psyche used to dwell, 
There the climate never varies — 

Are the tales that legends tell. 
And the skies are opal-tinted. 

At the morning's glorious rise. 
Flowers bloom and never wither 

In this earthly Paradise. 

In my dreaming we are sailing. 

When our honeymoon is o'er, 
To that castle on the island, 

With " our gems " from Jersey Shore. 
Crystal fountains flow with music 

In that legendary home ; 
Golden vessels and rare jewels 

Are the treasures we will own. 

There shall be a room for Bertha, 

Filled with perfumes rich and rare. 
She shall have a diamond crescent 

To adorn her golden hair. 
Fairy hands shall weave her garments. 

They shall strew her path with flowers ; 
Golden bells will chime with music 

In this paradise of ours. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Mary dear, thou shalt be happy, — 

Thou shalt be my island queen ; 
Thou shalt bathe in scented waters, 

Midst the palms of emerald green. 
Lovely birds shall throng the woodlands, 

Angel voices bid thee rise 
From thy blissful, dreamless slumbers, 

In this earthly paradise. 

Hush, my angels ! let me whisper 

Of the fruit that ripen there, — 
Fruits that fed the goddess Venus ; 

With the mermaids we will share. 
Wines that ancient knights might envy 

Shall be served by gypsy queens, — 
Sculptured statues idly dreaming 

In the midst of floral scenes. 

In a fairylike gondola 

' We will float as in a dream. 
For the waters are as peaceful 

As a languid woodland stream. 
And within this ancient castle 

Lives a goddess young and fair ; 
She will sing and play the zither 

When we all are gathered there. 

We shall dream amid the gardens, 

'Neath the moonbeams' mellow glow ; 
We will hear the sea nymphs singing 

Where the jeweled fountains flow. 
Angel forms will guard our footsteps ; 

There the skies are ever blue ; 
Dewdrops fall to kiss the flowers 

As the sunlight fades from view. 



253 



254 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Well I know, my sister Bertha, 

Thou shalt wear an angel's smile ; 
Thou shalt dream as Cleopatra 

When she floated down the Nile. 
E'en a Zozo queen might envy 

Thine Adonis of thy dream, — 
Strong of limb, undying courage, 

Sung by bard in song and theme. 

When the misty shades of twilight 

Vail the bosom of the sea. 
In the moonlit castle tower, 

Mary dear, I'll dream with thee. 
I will read thee tales of knighthood. 

Crown thy brow with fairest flowers, 
While the birds of every climate 

Sing within the lofty bowers. 

Dost thou think me only musing, 

Little angels of the vale? 
Should you really never wed us 

Two lone hearts would long bewail. 
Thus I ask thee to be patient. 

For the year will quickly glide ; 
Bertha then shall claim her lover, 

Mary, thou shalt be my bride. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 2t;c 



An Autumn ^lavan, 

(To J. A. C.) 

The youthful blush has left her cheek, — 

An autumn blossom now; 
The hair of brown has changed to gray, 

There are furrows on her brow. 
She's fairer to a thoughtful mind 

Than spring or summer flowers. 
For the smile of love flows from her soul 

In these, life's autumn hours. 



256 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

'Midst the stately elms and lilacs 

Stands a homestead of renown ; 
'Tis an old colonial mansion 

In a charming seaport town. 
There the ancient bard and mariner 

Have been sheltered from the storm ; 
Spinning yarns and strange adventures, 

Round the fireplace bright and warm. 

Of the ancient bard and mariner 

I have nothing to relate ; 
But the youth of modern romance 

Who now rules this vast estate. 
Like the skies that smile in summer 

Are his eyes of heavenly blue, 
And the locks that crown his forehead 

Are the brightest golden hue. 

To the beach there came a maiden, 

Tall and stately as a queen. 
She had learned of this old mansion 

And the owner — Sir Eugene. 
So she wandered in the gloaming 

Up the old historic road, 
Dreaming only of the owner 

Of this picturesque abode. 

Morning dawned and she beheld him. 

Then she realized her dream ; 
Naughty Cupid softly whispered : 

" Thou canst capture him supreme." 
" May I pluck some of those pansies ? " 

She in sweetest accents said ; 
" Yes, fair maiden," he then answered, 

" Gather all that are not dead." 



FOETICA L INSPIRA TIONS. 

Soon they parted by the wayside. 

With a kiss — but not farewell ; 
They had planned for future meetings 

Where the surging billows swell. 
Ah, the smiles that Annette gave him 

Set his heart and soul aflame ; 
Was this done for an impression? 

Did she long to change her name? 

Next they met was one fine evening, 

'Neath the moon, beside the tide ; 
Faithful " Bolivar " stood awaiting 

For to take the twain a ride. 
Thus were spent the summer evenings. 

Blushing maid and bashful boy ; 
Cupid often whispering to them 

Of the " sweets " they might enjoy. 

Poor Eugene seemed rather timid 

When he journeyed home alone, 
Fancied spirits thronged the woodlands, 

Or the imps from realms unknown. 
Faithful " Bolivar " had to travel, 

When the moon forgot to shine ; 
Gene recalled so many legends 

Of the ghosts of " auld lang syne." 

To the mansion " Pocahontas " 

Eugene brought his dear Annette ; • 
She was charmed by its appearance, 

'Twas a dream she'll ne'er forget. 
Every hall and room were furnished 

In the old colonial style. 
And each old romantic fireplace 

Seemed to " welcome " with a smile. 



257 



17 



258 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Ah, too soon the summer ghded ; 

Autumn days came wending on, 
And the dream would soon be over. 

Dear Annette would soon be gone. 
Well, they parted one fair morning. 

He with sadness in his heart; 
But perhaps another summer 

They will meet to never part. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

Behold The Joyful Wedding Bells 

Are ringing now for thee ; 
They offer you companionship, 

Or friendship sure to be. 
Inscribe some friend a letter, 

As herein advertised, 
Then wait patient for an answer, 

And thou wilt surely be surprised. 

I wrote one maid a letter, — 

That published here an " ad," 
And soon there came a message 

Which made me very glad. 
I met her at the station, 

A few months from that day, 
And she was even fairer 

Than flowers that bloom in May. 

There dwells a little maiden 

In this, my native town ; 
'Twas thus she met her lover. 

And soon will settle down. 
Many lives are made happy 

By The Joyful Wedding Bells, 
And when you write a letter 

How Cupid's bosom swells. 

O shy and blushing maiden, 

God wishes you to wed ; 
Man was not made to live alone, 

Our blessed Master said. 
The Wedding Bells are offered thus, 

That happy you may be, 
And many a lonely bachelor 

Is longing now for thee. 



259 



26o 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



An AttgflH Jar^. 

(To Ethel.) 

Who is that angeHc creature 

With those dreamy sea-gray eyes? 
Is she not some fair immortal 

From the realms beyond the skies? 
Does she not float through the ether 

As a bird floats through the air? 
That sweet face reveals an angel 

Wrapt in meditative prayer. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 26I 



{To J. S. P.) 

Our noblest friend has left us, 

Yet he's not so far away; 
He has crossed the Stygian river, 

To the blissful land of Day. 
He was all that mortal could be, — 

Doing- all that God desired. 
Blessed Jesus, thou art with him. 

He hath done what thou required. 



252 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



When Life's storms have wrecked my vessel, 

And I sail the seas no more, 
Will I be as well remembered 

As I was in days of yore? 
Will the youthful come to greet me, 

With a smile and words of praise? 
No, the aged are forgotten, 

In these selfish modern days. 

Oh why be conceited, fair maiden! 

For life is a swift fleeting dream; 
Thou shalt fall as the leaf in the Autumn, 

To be cast into Death's gloomy stream. 
For the daintiest hand must wither. 

And the rosiest cheeks must fade, 
The fleetest of footsteps must falter. 

In the churchyard we all must be laid. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



263 



Wouldst thou help a brother neighbor 

Who must battle with life's woes? 
Would you see him be progressive 

On his journey as he goes? 
Then be cheerful when you meet him, 

Give him thoughts of peace and hope, 
Then success will surely follow 

As with trials he must cope. 



264 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



Amid the mystic, ferny dells, — 
Where chime the golden fairy bells, 
A lovely rural goddess dwells. 
Within the hidden jeweled bowers 
She sings in early morning hours. 
Unto the fragrant summer flowers. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



265 



(Hamtnhis, l^afa? OPur Baihrns Wan? 

'Midst the roaring of the cannon 

And the shrieking of the shell 
Where the stars and stripes are waving 

A youthful soldier now has fell. 
He was wounded by the foeman 

Ere the fight had well begun, 
Now he asks in dying accents, 

"Comrades, have our soldiers won?" 

Onward leads the daring general, 

With the courage of a knight. 
Loudly calling to his soldiers, 

" We will never yield the fight ; " 
And the dying soldier murmurs. 

As each foeman yields his gun, 
" God has heard my dying message. 

Comrades, you have bravely won." 

" Have our soldiers won the battle ? " 

Comes the question sad and low, 
" Send a message to my sweetheart 

That we've conquered every foe; 
Send a letter to my mother 

Saying that my life is done. 
Go and tell my aged father 

That the fight was nobly won." 



265 POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 



(One Thanksgiving Morn.) 

In my home there dwells a maiden 

Faithful to Life's stormy end, 
Far more dearer is my sister, 

Than a sweetheart or a friend. 
She was sent to us from heaven. 

One clear, bright Thanksgiving Day. 
God had answered mother's message 

When she knelt at night to pray. 

She is not a doll-like creature, 

But a brave and honest girl ; 
She's the life of our old homestead, 

Fit for either prince or earl. 
Everybody seems to love her, 

She's so gentle, pure, and kind ; 
Though I'd search the whole world over, 

Not a better girl I'd find. 



POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 267 

'Tis the shallow ripple of the stream, 
The face that seems to youth a dream, 

That pleases Nowadays. 
'Tis not the thoughtful sober mind. 
The heart that's loyal, brave, and kind, 

That pleases Nowadays. 

'Tis the maid with " flirting " in her eyes. 
Deceitful as the August skies, 

That pleases Nowadays. 
'Tis not the girl with push and brains, 
That bears the load and ne'er complains. 

That pleases Nowadays. 

'Tis the youth who thinks he " knows it all," 
That schemes to make the maiden fall. 

That pleases Nowadays. 
'Tis not the man with shabby clothes, 
That bears your many griefs and woes, 

That pleases Nowadays. 

'Tis the youth who flatters with his smile. 
That mocks religion all the while. 

That pleases Nowadays. 
'Tis not the one who bows in prayer. 
To lift you from the tempter's snare, 

That pleases Nowadays. 

'Tis the " fool " who slights his working friends, 
That on his father's gold depends, 

That pleases Nowadays. 
'Tis not the youth who keeps the home. 
That dear ones never need to roam. 

That pleases Nowadays. 



25g POETICAL INSPIRATIONS. 

'Tis the man who wears the luring smile, 
The girl who only cares for " style," 

That pleases Nowadays. 
'Tis not the one who worships God, 
That follows where the saints have trod, 

That pleases Nowadays. 

The shallow mind reads not the soul. 
The earth is their eternal goal, 

Nowadays. 
These fields that yield the finest wheat 
Are those that bow at Jesus' feet 

Nowadays. 

Alas, the time is drawing near 
When slighted ones will then be dear, 

In Afterdays. 
The ones you worship now as friends 
Will laugh at you when '' beauty " ends. 

In Afterdays. 



OCT 7 1903 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 928 641 1 



